This week was not an easy one. A stray cat in our neighborhood showed up with two tiny gray kittens a few weeks ago. After a while, we noticed that one of them was limping. We decided to leave it alone, hoping it would heal, but we knew it was time to do something when we found the little kitten just lying in the middle of the street one morning.
I dropped it off at a vet on Wednesday, and they called shortly after. The kitten had a broken leg, which was treatable, but it also had a hernia that had forced its organs into its chest cavity. Too small for surgery and too injured to heal naturally, there was only one other choice. The little kitten was sedated, then put to sleep, so it now romps uninjured in kitty Heaven.
Needless to say, I was upset.
I had seen no sign of the other kitten since Wednesday morning, but on Friday afternoon Ed and I returned from lunch to find not one, but two gray kittens in our driveway. The second one, whom we had never seen, looked almost identical to the injured kitten. This one, thankfully, looks healthy and happy.
Maybe cats really do have nine lives.