An Unexpected Addition

Little Kitten @ 8  Weeks Old

Several weeks ago, I woke up at 6:40am to start my groggy morning routine to get the hubby off to work, starting by letting the dog out to do his business.  As I opened the back door, the dog ran out and something else ran in. My eyes were still hazy with sleep, but I knew it was very small and fuzzy and fast.  Maybe a baby bunny or a tarantula. Garth, our dog, came immediately back inside after it and scooted it around with his nose, pushing it into my dining room.  My hysterical screaming only added to his excitement (hey, I thought it was a tarantula!).

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that draped over my labmaraner's nose was a tiny baby kitten.  She was so small that Garth had inadvertently scooped the kitten onto his head while attempting to sniff it. Still unsure of how Garth would react, I lifted all 2.5 lbs of her up and out of his reach.  She was slobbery, but safe.

Now, a quick background about me... I was born a crazy cat lady.  Even as a child, I would collect strays (and even not-strays that I stole from my neighbors). My husband claims to have been unaware of this fact until after were married, but by then it was too late! I adopted our cat Puddin Paws immediately after securing our first apartment together, and it would be four years until our next fur baby, Garth.  My husband, Allen, who isn't animal-crazy like me, was just beyond his comfort zone with two pets and had only recently adjusted.

So you can imagine how Allen felt when his crazy, cat-loving wife wandered into the bedroom holding a sweet, baby kitten.  I could see the fear building, as I held up the kitten saying, "Garth found her... I had nothing to do with it!"

Despite my craziness, I made a solid attempt to re-home the intruder who we called "Little Kitten".  After all, we had a 60 pound puppy who wasn't quite well-trained enough to keep his cool around such an exciting new toy.  ( I am very proud that he made no attempts to eat her, but he desperately wanted to play as if she were another puppy.)  I called every shelter in a 200 mile radius, but each of them was at full capacity.  I reluctantly told my husband that we may have to hand-pick a family for her.

All three fur babies!

In the meantime, Garth & Puddin were adjusting to Little Kitten. I created a "cabitat" in Garth's old crate where she could live safely, but still see & smell the resident critters.  I was taking her for her vaccinations and developing a new routine at home.

When Allen told me that he had found a good home for her, it was difficult to hide my disappointment.  I knew in all practicality that Little Kitten would be perfectly happy with her new family, who had recently lost their very old family cat.  So we packed her up and made the four hour drive to her new home, where we spent with weekend with friends, watching Little Kitten get settled.

Two weeks later, I received a message from the new family to let me know that Little Kitten could no longer stay with them.  She had attacked their youngest baby girl and was just not good around the children.  My reaction was inappropriately overjoyed.  I approached my husband, whose eyes filled with fear once again, and suggested that we had a responsibility to take her back.  He reluctantly gave in, knowing that he had lost the battle long before the conversation began and would have had to put considerable effort in convincing me to give her up twice.

So I made another long drive, although it didn't seem as much, to reclaim our little intruder.  Allen, who has naming rights to all animals as compensation for allowing me to have them, decided to appropriately name her Bunny.  I'm just happy he chose that over Tarantula.