We used to live in Puget Sound, and while we were there my husband commuted to work in Seattle by bus. It was a long trip, over an hour and then he had to walk about a mile home. Usually he asked me to come and pick him up at the bus stop, but one day in early December he told me not to pick him up. So I waited until he would be at the end of our long block and I started to walk to meet him. Didn't see him, kept walking. Got to the end of the block and he still wasn't there. Debated waiting, going forward or going back home. Finally decided to keep going, then I heard a small "mew." He was carrying a small black kitten. I took her in my gloved hands and felt her shivering so I tucked her under my coat and carried her home.
My husband told me the story, he was walking home and at the curve in the road this little black kitten had walked up to him and said, "mew" she wasn't even big enough to say meow. He was late because he had knocked on the doors of the houses there and asked if she belonged to them, he even left our phone number in case they found the owners.
When we got home we gave her some milk, I noticed that her tongue was cherry red, didn't seem healthy to me. We kept her in a large cat carrier, because we didn't want our cats to hurt her. Later when I realized that she had fleas, I washed her with dish soap. I was only successful because she was so small, she fought like a bandit!
Back then we would close the drain of the bathtub and fill it with a bit of water, it was changed daily and the cats liked it. Shachor wouldn't drink out of there for months, especially after the second bath a couple of days later! Then I combed her out with the flea comb, over 40 fleas!! By the end I counted 200 fleas on her tiny six-week old frame.
The next day, one of the people that my husband had left our number with called. Their cat had been run over the night before and she would be happy to take the kitten if we didn't want her. I was surprised at my immediate possessiveness as I told her firmly that we would keep her. We had planned to get two kittens after our housewarming and she found us the Friday after the housewarming.
All weekend I thought I heard a cat crying outside. I would go to the window and listen and there would not be a cat there. The cries were continuous, barely stopping for breath. I remember thinking that since we had a black kitten a white one would be a nice match.
Since we had decided earlier to get two kittens, on Monday we went to the local shelter. I opened the door to the large room and could hear a cat crying, continuously, barely stopping for breath. We rounded the corned and I found a small white kitten in a cage, alone. The attendant told us that his brother had just been adopted and that was why he was crying. I checked every cage just in case there was another white kitten, he was the only one.
So I called the attendant over and told her that we wanted that one. She said okay and was going to send us to do the paperwork, when she got suspicious and said, "Did you hold him?" I said no. She said, "Did you want to?" I shrugged and said okay. I knew he was ours. So we took him home.
We named the black cat "Shachor" and the white one Fife. Shachor died today (she was 15 1/2) and we buried her in the backyard (we checked years ago and it is okay in our town) many miles from where she was born, in our hearts always. She waited for us to get home from Finland, where we were for six months. We had a week with her, pets and smiles and hugs.
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