Tiny kitten Cake, who was rescued yesterday from a Tallahassee storm drain, is doing well this morning. Through the night I checked on her and made sure she had been drinking her kitten formula, but at some point the little stinker found the strength to jump out of the box to go exploring her wider surroundings–our garage.
Of course my first thought was that she might’ve climbed into one of the wheel wells of my car, but no Cake. I searched under Studly Doright’s car. No Cake. When Studly joined the search we found her cowering between a set of spare golf clubs and our long unused exercise bike.
She was pretty weak, so I held her and fed her a bit of sugar water from a dropper before giving her the kitten formula. After that Cake perked up and she mewed for the first time before settling into my lap for a purring nap.
I asked Studly before he left for work what we should do if she’s too young for the shelter to take her in. The old softie said, “She might have to come back here until she’s old enough.”
We don’t need another cat. We don’t. Period.
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