A few weeks ago, the owner of the cafe underneath my new work area found a one-week old stray kitten no larger than my pinky finger. I have pretty small hands.
I’m not a cat lover, but the little thing could barely walk, so thin and frail. O malnourished her eyes would open with difficulty.
Everyday for the past month she sat in her box, her owner taking her out every two hours to feed and play. Did you know cats can burp? I’d watch with silent admiration as this little kitten grew on me and up.
Now the size of my hand, the kitten can walk, has much weight, and it’s eyes are always open, always curious. The owner says he’ll leave her at home now that she’s pretty much trained and as much as it saddens me to see her go, I have to accept it.