Deborah Woehr

I’ve always loved cats and wanted one as soon as my family and I moved into our first house. However, my husband is adamant about not having pets because he had to tolerate his mother’s dogs and their refusal to be potty trained. He threw a fit when my oldest told us that she was talking about getting a cat for me for my birthday. This was several months ago.

On Thursday, I went to work, having no idea of the heartrending decision I would have to make by the end of the day. The manager asked me to order pizzas for the drivers when they came in from their routes. Everything was good. Then one of the drivers walks into the office holding a tiny Calico kitten in his hand.

I should have ignored him and gone about my business. Instead, I ran up to him and took the kitten out of his hand. We think it was less than 4 weeks old. He said that he had found it in a dumpster while he was doing his route. It kept crying and crying.

I tried to get someone else to take her home, but got no takers. There was no way I was going to leave her at the landfill. We have all kinds of wildlife — rattlesnakes, tarantulas, coyotes, and wild boar. Oh, and let’s not forget about hawks. I saw one circling above the hillside as I pulled out of the parking lot. The kitten wouldn’t have survived the night.

She kept crying, sometimes screaming for her mother. I drove to my youngest son’s school and sat in the car, thinking of the positive and negative aspects of the situation. Nevermind how my husband would react; he would eventually get over it . . . or not. My concern was who would take care of the kitten when we take our vacation. Cats are low maintenance animals, but this was practically a newborn baby.

My son was quite surprised when he came out to the car and saw the meowing box sitting in the front seat. I explained to him what happened, and then took them home so I could call the animal shelter. Once again, I tried to feed her, but she didn’t know how to slurp the milk from the saucer I had set out. She walked across it, instead, tracking milk everywhere. Next, I tried using a plastic syringe I’d had left over from my tooth extraction. When that didn’t work, I was at a loss and fearful that she would die from starvation.

Over an hour had passed since I’d called the shelter, who promised to send someone out to pick the kitty up. I decided that I’d better go because she was howling and suckling at our feet. I drove her over to the shelter and explained what happened. As I filled out a short form, the lady took the kitten into a back room.

She came back out and told me that they were going to find a foster family for the kitten. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes and the tone in her voice as she gave me the bum’s rush. I tried to keep in mind that she is used to dealing with selfish, callous jerks everyday. That didn’t make me feel any better.

When I told my husband what happened and how I handled it, he said, “That’s good.”

His nasty tone upset me. I went to work yesterday, feeling bummed. The feeling eased up when I talked to my supervisor, who assured me that the kitten was too young and needed constant care. I let it go and went about the motions of the day.

Then, just as I was about to leave, another coworker walked into our office and asked about the kitten. When I gave her the gist, she said, “If I had known you were going to do that, I would have taken her home. They euthanize kittens that age because they are too much work. I won’t give you the details because I know that will upset you.”

Thanks.