My Pillow Tats
And now for Kenya. Up in Divide, Colorado, at 10,000 feet elevation, Dagney was living there and working in Colorado Springs. When she discovered a band of feral cats she of course made sure they had food (because it was winter), and she coordinated with the Humane Society to start catching them for the Society in Spring. Well, I think the word got out and all the cats took off (actually started hiding) except for a mom and a couple kittens. But those kittens weren't going to be caught come hell or high water. All except one, the runt of course. Dagney managed to catch it and by her recogning it was only 4 weeks old. She bundled it up and took it NOT to the Humane Society, because they said it was too young for them, so she brought it...you guessed it, HOME!!!
I had to go out to the shop that was once my rabbit hutch and managed to find the last of my rabbit baby bottles. Yep, the poor little tyke couldn't even eat other than nurse that bottle, which he could barely do. Then we dashed downtown late at night (across 6 miles of rough mountain roads and 6 miles of freeway) and found baby food for cats at Walmart. That was luck! Then of course was the race back home. He had a heck of a time learning how to nurse that bottle, so Dagney just squeezed a drop or two at a time into his mouth. He finally got the hang of it.
He could fit in a nearly closed hand. And it seemed his head was twice the size of his skinny, scrawney little body...and he had a heck of a time holding his head up. It just wobbled, like those things in the rear window of a car.
He was so pitiful, but neither one of us could have turned our backs on him, cat or no cat.
