Sunday, 23 of July. I am at church, I walk outside for a breath of fresh air. Following another person towards the building is a small white kitten with spots of grey tabby. Her stomach is bloated and she's emaciated. The bloated stomach and emaciation are because of worms, but she's very touchy feely. She was obviously dumped. So I take her home, have my dad dose her with de-wormer, and stuff her full of water-moistened dry cat food. Now she sleeps with me and makes me sneeze. As soon as I can get the other cats aclimated to her, she goes outside. No name yet. Although Furball seems to be what she's getting called, 'cause that's what I'm calling her for the time being.
Now she's put on some weight and is begining to look more kittenish. She also had ear mites, fixed by a few drops of mineral oil in each ear. I am giving her regular baths, which she hates, with dish soap (kills the fleas). The easiest way for me to bathe her is just to give her a bath when I take my shower. She can't climb up the porcelain sides of the tub, and I can hold her up to eye level. Of course, minus my clothes claws do hurt more, but I'm a farm girl, a few scratches never hurt anyone unless they were poisoned. But I've already had cat scratch fever, as have most adults, and have nothing to worry about.
Here's the adorable thing that thinks I'm her mommy.
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