Stray

It was after midnight. I had just fallen into a deep sleep when I heard my daughter’s voice. “Mom. Com’ere.”

She pulled me out of the dark bedroom into the hallway, where Shaggy Hair Boy and With-a-Why were sitting in the light that spilled from the bathroom. When I peered around the doorway, I saw Boy in Black, his back against the tub, holding a stray kitten.

“We have to keep her away from the other cats,” Shaggy Hair Boy whispered. “They’re hissing.”

“I think she might be injured,” said Boy in Black. “She isn’t putting weight on this paw.”

“Look how skinny she is,” my daughter said. “She ate a whole can of cat food.”

Whenever Boy in Black stopped petting her, the kitten would meow. So he kept petting her, even as he talked, his big hands with their long fingers moving across her fragile body.

The kids had moved a litter box into the bathroom, along with food and water. They were going to keep her there overnight, away from our six cats. It sounded like a good plan so I went back to bed, leaving them with the newest stray.

When the alarm went off that morning, my husband found Boy in Black asleep on the floor of the bathroom. He’d brought in a blanket and pillow, and the stray kitten was curled up in his arms, asleep.

With six cats already in the house, we can’t keep her: we’d never make it through the winter, when the cats are all trapped inside the house, hissing at each other and peeing on stuff to mark territory. She’s living on our back step right now, but we need to find her a home before the cold weather comes this fall. So spread the word if you live in Snowstorm Region: anyone want a very cute, affectionate cat?