I'm sitting here with a tiny little wisp of smoke on my lap that arrived unexpectedly last night. A kitten, probably five weeks old, that someone left in the sun to die. My kids' father rescued her from the road and brought her home to me because he knows from experience what a sap I am. She's skin and bones--looks a little like a crusty-eyed wombat at this point. We filled her belly, gave her a warm bath and named her Zelda. She'll be just fine now.
My odds for becoming a crazy cat lady seem to be rising. I've got my three old fatcats that never go outside (they spent their lives in L.A. apartments--too old and goofy to transition now), a younger tortoise shell diva that showed up on my doorstep a couple of years ago, and now this foundling. Funny thing is, I've always been more of a dog person. Go figure.
My odds for becoming a crazy cat lady seem to be rising. I've got my three old fatcats that never go outside (they spent their lives in L.A. apartments--too old and goofy to transition now), a younger tortoise shell diva that showed up on my doorstep a couple of years ago, and now this foundling. Funny thing is, I've always been more of a dog person. Go figure.
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