Scout and About Part I

There's a new kitten in my life. And it's almost entirely not my doing. I already had five felines in the family, which is halfway to double-digits, which is better than half-way to certifiably crazy cat lady, a designation I'm hoping to stave off for a few more decades.

You might know the old saying, "Dogs have owners. Cat's have staff."

But before they have us catering to their every need they first have to choose us, and so it was that I was chosen almost three months ago. I wasn't the first to know, although I should have suspected.

Scout's story
I met the bedraggled grey tiger kitten at my veterinary hospital in July. She was reportedly brought to another veterinary clinic after she'd been rescued from a box at which some boys were throwing rocks. Understandably, she wasn't real keen on human contact. She appeared to be in the 12-14 week range, just getting her adult incisors. Thin and skittish, she was nonetheless curious and not at all fearfully aggressive as are some feral kittens. If not handled and socialized with positive human contact by 8-12 weeks of age, many cats remain uneasy around people their entire lives. In any case, her willingness to be handled, which I did to welcome her to a safe place and to prepare her for her permanent home, elsewhere, was reassuring.

I started calling her "Scout" after Harper Lee's brave narrator in To Kill A Mockingbird, who, despite terrible events, maintained her hope in humanity. It just seemed to fit, (especially this election season.)

                 "Atticus, you must be wrong...." 
                 "How's that?"
                 "Well, most folks seem to think they're right and you're wrong...." 
                 "They're certainly entitled to think that, and they're entitled to full
                 respect for their opinions," said Atticus, "but before I can live with other
                 folks I've got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn't abide by
                majority rule is a person's conscience."




It took a few days but she eventually began playing with and pouncing on my fingers.






She made herself at home around the clinic...

    

 Filing & Radiology








Lab work & Record review






Gift bag inspection &
Supervision






It was all fun and games until     someone ended up in a cone!



                                                                Exhausting!

 

 

 

She made a habit of dashing for my lap any time she was out and something like a vacuum cleaner or visiting dog startled her. She would loll comfortably belly up in my arms as I walked around but scramble away if I tried to show her to a prospective new owner.


So I know exactly how she flung herself in a panic away from the gentleman who attempted to adopt her the weekend I was off. Unfortunately there was a very small gap in the carrier's zipper when he walked out with her and away she went into the city streets.

Part II coming soon...