We have been adopted by a small, skittish, black male kitten. Now I want to go on record as saying I told my husband NOT to feed him. “Aw, just a little milk” he says. Now we have a cat named Sam, who follows my daughter around. At a respectful distance of course. He peers in the window beside our door at us. He will bat at a ball of rubber band attached to a string, forgetting himself and getting closer and closer.
I’ve since learned you don’t give a cat whole milk. Oops. He certainly seemed to love it at 6am each morning, when my daughter demanded Sam get some warm milk too. We stopped the milk and now my dh runs out with bits of meat from dinner to supplement his dry food, which I bought with a sigh, because I so didn’t want a cat, cute or not.
And I did try to find a home for him. Silly me, he has one – ours. So tomorrow I will cave and go out and get the essentials, like a flea bath. We’ll get him his shots and have him neutered, and take him inside, where I am sure he will demonstrate his gratitude by shredding my new sofa. Cats. My husband tells me the cat chose us. I guess I’m honored, but wouldn’t YOU like to be chosen instead??? Email me – I’ll throw in a bag of food and a kitty toy. Please?
