The call came on Saturday. Someone had found a kitten in the snow by their garage. It was feral and scared of people. It's mother was likey in the process of relocating the litter and got spooked and dropped it.
Like so many of the kittens I receive, it was filthy, so first up was a warm bath. The vet had had trouble determining the gender given all the fur, and first marked the chart as "male," but it's obvious now that this is a little girl. This kitten has the longest fur of any kitten I've seen, so it was especially difficult to get clean, and had lots of knotty mats in the fur. I had to cut some of it off from around her backside, which was caked with dried tapeworms. She is a "high-maintenance" kitty, the kind that needs daily grooming from her person.
She is probably 5 or 6 weeks old. She has enromous round eyes and is terrified of everything. Instead of purring, she hisses and hides. When I pick her up she either goes stiff, or limp, and her heart races. I'm giving her a couple of high-calorie kitten milk bottles a day, because believe it or not beneath all that fur she is terribly emaciated. The foster-care coordinator at the shelter named her "Stellar." I hope she grows into the name.
It's OK, little girl. You're going to come to like it here, and one day before you know it, you'll be purring.
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