Oh, look at the little cutsey, wootsey,.. aack!. Bastard scratched the shit outta me!

I’m not taking it in. I’ll tell you that right now. However cute it may be, I’m not of a mind to take in a cat. Nor does the wife want a cat. Which is fine by me. Pinkster, however, would be ecstatic.

But…

But as I was taking a quick walk, I was almost back to my home when I heard the distinct meow of a kitten. Foolishly, I stopped, looked around, and spotted a little gray-on-white kitten who ran right up to the wife and me.

So we walked the few remaining steps back to our home, kitten following close behind. I stopped on the porch and sat down in the chair a few minutes before going inside. The kitten hung out by my feet. And that’s when I noticed it had a cough. The wife and I decided there would be no harm in giving it a little food and milk to help it through the night. It devoured both. Before too long I went inside, perfectly content to leave the kitten to its fate. After all, it’s not all that cold this time of year in WV. It might actually survive as a feral cat, or it might find some other sap to take it in.

Then I found myself looking outside through the window every few minutes. The cat was sitting in one of our patio chairs, presumably soaking up the heat remaining from my ample bottom. I decided to take a few old towels and set them on the chair so the kitten could cozy up.

Now, five hours later, the kitten is still sitting on the chair, staring at me with its adorable little kitty-cat eyes every time I peek through the blinds. What am I to do? I’m not taking it in, but I can’t in good conscience let it starve. But is it any better to let it die of exposure? I can’t say that it is. Still, I’ve already done the kitten a huge favor by giving it some food and milk. Surely I’ve added days to its life expectancy. Maybe even given it the chance it needs to survive. How much more would my conscience expect of me?