...and Roscoe finds this quite unsettling.
Poor dog has not yet mastered control of his stop-cats-from-existing-around-me reflexes. He probably wants to kill it but I'm pretending that he's distraught because he has not been formally introduced and feels the part of a horrible host, having not personally offered a bowl of milk. This taints least the picture I have painted in my mind of my sweet, innocent little puppy dog who would carry a burden of guilt if he so much as frightened a bug.
The situation began this morning when Greg took Roscoe out to "water the flowers". He came back with the morning report:
"I think there's a kitten sitting on someone's steps. It's crying."
I had to press for more information and eventually unraveled that it was most likely abandoned and in need of food. Also, I "should go rescue it because people might judge him and he wouldn't feel manly investigating a kitten."
Standing there in little more than my underwear and fully aware that it was less than 40 degrees outside gave me a beefy enough argument to convince him that the duty fell squarely on his manliest of shoulders.
Twenty-minutes later he returned, reeking of failure.
"I'm not sure if it ran into the neighbor's backyard or if it's hiding somewhere up in their car...but I can't get it."
Not wanting to actually step out into the freezing morning, I contented myself that we'd given it our best shot and continued my day. Until I walked outside to head to work.
Loud crying. It was coming from under my neighbor's car.
I could see the kitten under there but it ran to the other side every time I tried to grab it. I stepped back to formulate a plan: dog food. Returning with a couple pellets, I placed them next to the car. The kitten immediately ran out, grabbed one, and dashed back for cover. It was clearly hungry. I laid a nice little trail leading out from under the car to within my reach. Shortly after I had the kitten in my arms.
It was really stupid to feed it and even stupider to take it in and I don't even love cats and am strictly a dog person but COME ON. I'm enough of a human being to be brought to my knees by a kitten. It was freezing and needed help!
The only logical thing to do was sneak it to the upstairs bathroom and hold it there all day. With food and water and an old towel to sleep on. This worked, too, except that in the transportation process, the kitten escaped and found itself face to face with a crated Roscoe.
That went real well.
Sounds like a cross between barking and wolf howls emitted from my dog's tortured soul.
"CAT! CAT! CAT! I MUST GET IT A BOWL OF MILK! WELCOME CAT!"
Is what he was saying, according to me.
On this note, I successfully corralled the kitten in the bathroom, gave Roscoe a consoling treat, and left my house in the hands of the crate gods, praying it would restrain a very motivated canine.
And it did. Which brings us to tonight: there's still a kitten in my bathroom. I kind of reacted without thinking this morning and now I need to come up with a plan. A plan that doesn't include the cat's demise at a local shelter nor us adopting a cat.
Unless Roscoe immediately develops a new personality that tolerates cats and the kitten can survive without a litter box.
I might be more motivated to give it a forever home if I can figure out a way to market it as well as Grumpy Cat. I need a good angle. Any ideas? I'm guessing Abandoned Cat wouldn't sell as well...
So that's mostly that. The kitten is cute. No one has posted any "Lost Cat" signs in the neighborhood. Roscoe is getting lots of belly rubs because they're the only thing that momentarily calms him from a self-assigned cat-watch duty outside the bathroom door.
Lastly, this.
^^ "what??" ^^
^^ "dad's cuddling me, ok?" ^^
Have a great day :-)
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