I fed him. How could I not? I brought him inside and into the spare room. I told him that if he lived through the weekend, I’d take him to the vet. But I honestly didn’t think he was going to live.
And yet, he did. The scrawny little kitten was actually an 8-year-old neutered tom.
I never found out for sure where he came from, but I think I know. I’d seen a beautiful white cat two doors down. Those folks moved, two weeks later men went in to work on the place, and that cat appeared. So he’d probably been left alone for someone else to rescue. Or to die a slow and painful death.
Between 35 and 45…
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