A Four-Legged Detour

Last week I went to a Panera drive-through to grab lunch.  As I pulled forward there was a Jeep at the window, and something compelled me to look down.  Behind its rear passenger tire was a small tail.  Without thinking I threw the car into park and jumped out.  Thankfully the sound was enough to startle the tail to move away from the tire so that neither of us were directly behind the Jeep.  I made a quick reach and found myself with a handful of kitten.

Climbing back into the car, I looked down and suddenly realized I had no idea what I had just done.  I pulled forward because, you know, drive-through.  As I waited for my food the cashier and a few other employees crowded around to get a look at my unexpected passenger.  I knew I needed to get the little one to a vet just to make sure everything was ok.  Besides that...I had nothing.  I'd never owned a pet before, let alone a stray kitten.  Husband was, of course, out of town so I couldn't rely on his previous pet ownership knowledge.  I had at least been able to figure out that the kitten was a female, and she seemed comfortable snuggling up to me; I was grateful she wasn't being aggressive or trying to escape.  I managed to text Husband and he said, "Be sure to buy a litter box on the way home!"  So, it seemed we would be gaining a new roommate.

After consulting with a few other friends with cats, I made my way to the vet hospital.  There was a line, so we were instructed to wait in the car and they would call for us.  Little one made her way to my shoulder and happily sat there for awhile, although eventually she moved a little farther down my back.  She nestled between my shoulder blades and the back of my seat and together we waited patiently.  She was certainly annoyed when she had to leave her cozy spot to come inside with me; I had to shake her off as she clung to my sweater.  Thankfully our time at the vet was brief -- all things considered, she seemed healthy.  She had fleas (and, although we couldn't confirm it yet, intestinal parasites) and was only a pound, but she was alert and moving well.  The vet guessed she was about 5 weeks old.  I got some advice on food and litter, and off we went to the pet store.

Although she enjoyed the car, she didn't enjoy not being allowed to hide behind my back as I drove.  We made our way through the pet store as quickly as possible, and as we neared home she fell asleep in the crook of my (non-driving) arm.  I was relieved...until I realized I needed a plan for getting her and all of her new accoutrements into the house by myself.  In a scene out of a slapstick comedy I managed to hold onto her as a I dragged things inside a few at a time.  I set up her litter box, put her down for a moment so I could try and get her some food -- and watched her promptly crawl underneath the dishwasher.

Here, dear reader, is where I started to finally panic.  Adrenaline had kept me focused and relatively sane as I navigated her first moments with me, but now having a kitten under my dishwasher wrecked me.  Thankfully Husband was in his car leaving for home, and I called him convinced I had doomed this poor little thing before she even had a chance.  He assured me that she was fine, she could get herself out if needed, and I just had to take a breath.  Since I hadn't eaten a thing all day and I already had pre-set plans for the evening, he asked me to leave her some food and water and litter and to just let her be while she acclimated.

She spent her first 24 hours with us huddled under the dishwasher.  She wouldn't come out for food, so we would put some on a spoon and slide it under to her; we could hear her eat off the spoon, then she would meow and clang the spoon against the floor as if ordering seconds.  We were initially willing to continue that pattern until she felt safe coming out, but we worried she wasn't getting enough food or water; we decided to remove the dishwasher.  Husband carefully undid the screws, turned off the water and power, and slowly pulled out the unit.  There she sat, calm as could be, as if she couldn't believe it had taken us so long to come for her.  Husband reached for her and she purred contentedly.  

We spent the rest of the night snuggling and getting her used to us, as well as getting a first bath.  At the pet store I had bought a comfy blanket for her, and that night we used it to line a laundry basket that would act as her makeshift bed.  She slept soundly with us, and we quickly learned that other comfies would not do -- she had to have hers and hers alone.  She also started showing her energetic side, defying the idea that kittens sleep a majority of the time.  She certainly spent most of her day awake; I was convinced she was broken.  She slept at night, which was great, but when she was with us she was a big ball of energy.  We spent the week racing home from work or, for a few fortunate days, working at home so we could spend as much time with her a possible.

She has now been here a week and she is doing really well.  We still have some challenges, which aren't surprising given her unknown origin.  Thankfully, though, she is happy and healthy.  She is bonding to both of us equally.  She took her first car ride in her crate and was totally content.  She has met my parents and a couple of other people and has been perfectly sweet to them all.  We are eagerly learning as much as we can about stray kittens and are heartened to learn that while there are some things we really should be doing differently, our instincts have been right on

As for her name?  We decided to call her Rosa.  It turns out the Spanish word for bagel is "rosquilla", and while I had zero intention of calling her Panera or Jeep or anything else directly related to her ordeal, giving her a name that in a small way honored where I found her seemed fitting.  Welcome to the family, Rosa!