I saw him (or her) for the first time the other day while I was out taking B for a walk. It had just rained and he was soaking wet and meowing like crazy by the dumpster. Pathetic little creature. I felt sorry for him but that was as far as it goes.
And then yesterday, I saw him again. This time, I noticed that just a few feet away from him was a dead kitten. They obviously came from the same litter because they were of the same age and their colors were the same. Beside the dead kitty was a sack. I guess you can pretty much imagine what's inside that sack. But yet again, I turned a blind eye and resisted the urge to take him home. Heartless me.
Finally, this morning I saw him once more. No, not by the dumpster 400 meters (give or take) away but just two houses from ours this time. It took a while for my humanity to kick in but bottom line is, it did. And so here I am hand rearing this irritatingly noisy little kitty. My plan is to help him out until he can fend for his own. Give him a fighting chance so to speak.
Truth, his determination to live astounds me. Think about it, a helpless little kitty with eyes not quite open yet; going three days (possibly more) without food or water and being exposed to the elements to boot. Amazing, really.
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