A stupid kitten

We first heard his mew on Sunday afternoon. My father thought it was coming from our roof, but then I told him I was pretty sure it was actually from the attic just above the bathroom. Nothing we can do about although he was crying continuously. We just hoped the mother would come to his rescue to feed him, or at least make the cry stop.

The next morning when I went to the bathroom, I almost stepped on him. He was there on the floor, still mewing but this time much more weakly. That’s when I noticed that he still wasn’t able to walk, his eyes still closed and his body covered with something sticky. Such a small helpless stupid kitten!

I lifted him and put him in a box. I gave him some water (and milk later) and he fell asleep not long after.

And that’s how we officially had a new member in the family.

He spent most of his time sleeping in the box. Other than that, he was talking to us in the only language he knew, that is mewing. Of course we totally understood what he said: “I want milk NOW.”

So I would lift him from the box and tried to provide what the little guy wanted. But since we didn’t have any straw or pipette around, he had to drink from spoon.

I gotta tell you it wasn’t easy. I had to first let him suck on my fingers before pushing the spoon quickly — a bit forcing to be exact — into his tiny mouth. I knew it hurt him but I didn’t have a choice. I did that several times until he wasn’t interested in my fingers anymore (either he was full or he realized they weren’t the real thing hehehe).

So basically that’s what I had been doing for the past four days. Responding to a stupid kitten and let him suck on my fingers. I didn’t enjoy it. I hoped he would grow rapidly over a night and be able to eat/drink by himself.



When I came home this evening, I didn’t see the box so I asked my mom about the kitten. She told me she had given it to a girl next door, who happened to have a queen in her house. “The neighbor said the kitten was so cute and she was pretty sure he belonged to her queen,” my mom said.

“I think she will take care of the kitten better than we do.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. I know my mom has a very good point, but somehow I wish I had let the kitten suck on my fingers one last time before he took off.

Not as a sign of goodbye: I just wanted him to remember what the fake thing felt before he finally got the real thing for good heheheh.

PS. We didn’t name the kitten who now only has eight lives (he surely lost one when he fell from the attic).