It was the first cold Saturday of the year. Luin was out of town, so my voice of reason was not with me. I decided to drive to town and get Popeyes. As I was waiting in line, I heard the faint whine of a kitten. My heart strings quickly reached out for it. I looked around frantically for the kitten and even asked my fellow Popeye eaters if they heard it. They just looked at me like I was crazy, perhaps they were right. I got my food and decided I wanted to save a life. I’d wished to find a kitten for a long time. By the time I parked my truck at the back of Popeyes, I had the tiny creature’s whole life planned. He would be Mr. Darcey’s best friend, and I would finally have a second kitten. I walked to some bushes and the cry grew louder.
A steady stream of cars were going through the drive-thru when I spotted it. The little gray tabby was across the street begging to be rescued. I darted across the road, and the kitten ran into the patch of woods. I began to talk the language of kittens which drew laughter from the cars waiting in the drive-thru. What did I care about what those heathens were thinking, I was saving a life. The kitten slowly approached and I reached out for it, and then it ran away. I sat on the ground and began kitten speech again. As the kitty approached I thought I’ll just grab him. As the little creature came with in touching distance I pounced. The kitten screamed with terror and began its defence. I attempted to grab him him my left hand, but my thumb was in the way. Within five seconds my thumb was a bloody stick. I released the ungrateful beast back to wild. I limped back to the truck, and thought how am I going to explain this to Luin. There were scratches all over my thighs and the little devil bit through my thumb nail in two different places. I thought about going to the emergency room, but then thought I was being dramatic. I went home and ate my cold Popeyes.
The next morning I checked my wounds. There was no way I could hide them from Luin. I thought of realistic stories and decided I would go in the yard and cut briars. That would at least explain the scratches. It worked. But God does not like lying. On Tuesday, I went to the doctor for my yearly wellness exam, and just asked about cat bites. He asked to see the wound and frowned. “You have no access to the cat? ” I shook my head no. My eyes began to fill with tears because I knew what was coming. “So you have no way of knowing if it’s under a house seizing and frothing at the mouth.” I shook my head no and let the tears fall. Two hours later I was in the emergency room receiving seven shots. Three in the thumb, and cursing the kitten. On the way to the hospital I confessed my sin to Luin, who said “Only you Jill.”
Saturday, one week after I was viciously attacked I was riding in the car with my dear friend Carolyn retelling my tale of woe. She froze when I mentioned the place of the attempted rescue. To my horror she described the kitten in great detail and the woods in which I was located. The little beast had tricked another into rescue with its cries for help. They however, were smarter than me. They trapped the beast. I could not believe it. The tiny creature obviously wanted to belong to this household and not mine. It is reported SHE is quite snuggly and calm. They named her Lulu. As punishment and protection for further rescue attempts finished my shots.