Tonight my kitten dreams came true...sort of. You see growing up, I had dreams of finding an abandoned box of kittens. If I found a box full of kittens, I would have to rescue them. My mom would have to let me keep them--they would have to be rescued!
I was just telling Nick yesterday that for some time, after I got my license, I would stop and check boxes in ditches just in case they were full of kittens. They never were.
Tonight I rescued a kitten, but instead of a being in a box, it was in a backpack.
Living in Olympia, one becomes accustomed to seeing the Olympia bummies walking around with cats on leashes perched on their shoulders and dogs galore. These characters are a part of the downtown scene in Olympia, and both the animals and the bummies always multiply when the weather gets nicer. It probably doesn't help that people gravitate towards Olympia, seeing it as the bummie/hippie Mecca.
Nick and I were the first car stopped at a red light a few blocks from our house. Two Olympia bummies (hiking packs, grungy, sunburnt) walked across the sidewalk, one of them had a dog. When they were about halfway across we noticed a little orange kitten sitting in the middle of the road right where they had just been standing. We gasped, and I opened the car door yelled, "SERIOUSLY!?!" and scooped up the kitten. Meanwhile the light had turned green but no one moved--(I mean how could they?) there was a kitten rescue taking place. The one bummie yelled, "yeah, seriously!" Then he saw that I had the kitten and said to the other bummie, "dude, your kitten fell out of your backpack." The backpacked bummie turned, said, "oh," and started walking towards me for the kitten. Even though the kitten's little hindquarter was covered in kitten poo, I held on tight. He reached forward for the kitten, but I didn't move. I had become Charlton Heston and the poopy kitten was my rifle. He waited a second and then said, "...unless you want it...I can't take care of it anyway." I answered, "YES! I will take him." A car or two started honking but I like to think that they were just out of view and didn't understand what was taking place. The first bummie yelled something else about how I didn't have to be rude that they didn't realize the kitten had fallen from the backpack. I didn't take the time to remind him that he was the one shoving kittens into backpacks and letting them shit all over themselves and how they probably shouldn't have pets if they can't even acquire shelter for themselves. I climbed back in the car and we returned home. The poor little guy was so hungry and thirsty and poopy. He's sleeping on a snuggy right now. He started purring the second his baby kitten paws touched the thin, foamy fleece blanket. Fact: All cats love snuggies.
Little kitten will spend the night at Glass Ave. In the morning he will be taken to the local shelter where I am sure he will be scooped up by the sweetest family ever. Orange kittens are always a hit. I couldn't help but think that we were meant to be the first car stopped at that red light in order to rescue the baby-kitten-baby. There's no doubt this kitten had a really rough day. As I wrapped it's freshly-washed kitten body in a warm towel fresh from the dryer, I whispered to it that falling into the middle of an intersection from a bummie's backpack is the best thing that will ever happen to it in its whole life.
It kind of reminds me of when another little kitten's lucky day in Olympia...
|Peanut, on her lucky day!|