The rain finally stopped. I look out the door to be certain. It came fast and hard. Quick in my action, I escape the crowded building and start on my walk home. Puddles are everywhere. Knowing the cars go too fast, I move as far to the side as the grass will let me. That has me reach the bridge over the small rushing stream. I sigh looking to see if the light has turned red. Less cars means a lower chance of being splashed. Not yet.
I pause looking down the stream and spot in the sky above a double rainbow. It has me stop completely ignoring the cars and rushing stream. I take a step closer pulling out my phone. I can try for a picture. It never comes out good enough, but I cannot help trying.
As I reach the bank of the stream, I hold up my phone trying to aim right. Is it always a bad picture because I suck at photography or because I have an old phone? Whichever doesn’t matter. I’m going to keep trying.
I slowly lower my phone looking around. The sound was quiet, soft almost. Now I’m looking for a cat. It would be soaked from the rain. Drenched really. The vet takes in strays. I could probably drop it off there to be tagged or something.
“Mew.” Really soft sound.
Coming from… I move closer to the brown bag. Cloth like what can be bought for one or two dollars from the store. Another mew has me kneel down. I’m close enough to home that a little wetness won’t matter. Not to mention a wet cat would be…
I tug open the bag gasping in horror at what I see. Seven kittens. Like legit kittens. I could hold them in my hand. What did they do to earn this? One, just one, a little black one, moves its head. Then the softest, “Mew.”
There may be tears. I pick up the kitten that mews at me. I nuzzle it close to my chest hopeful my warmth will be enough. I check the others: no movement, no heartbeat, no warmth. Even this one that mews at me doesn’t seem like its in the best state.
“Let’s go.” I grab the bag of dead kittens while nuzzling the living one. The soft mews grow softer as I climb back to the roadside.
I don’t wait for the calm in traffic. I can ignore the splashing. I have to reach the vet ASAP. I rush trying not to injure the kitten against my chest or slip on the wet surface. The vet isn’t far. It’s not. And they take in strays.
Please say they could help.
I swallow the tears when I walk into the animal hospital. “Please,” I beg. I never heard such a whine in my voice before. To think this little creature has me losing hope.
The vet tech standing behind the counter is quick to check on my new kitten.
“And the bag?” This is by the vet tech who came from a room. I shake my head as they check inside. I couldn’t leave them.
“We need to get her dried and fed.” The tech holds the kitten close looking at me carefully. “Wait here. We can talk after we save her.”
With the kittens taken from me, I go wash up in the bathroom. I clean off the dirt as much as I can. Drowning cats seemed so hollywood to me. As if impossible in real life. Why of all the lies hollywood tells this isn’t one of them?
Once cleaner, I move back to the waiting room. I sit there weighing my options. Saving the cat is one thing. What am I to do now? I cannot bring it home. I cannot have pets.
I look at a dog and its owner reading a magazine. They gave me a few suspicious looks. I’m a mess. Standing up, I ignore the gentle question by the receptionist while leaving the vet. The kitten may be saved. But I cannot keep it. Sniffing, I continue my walk home. Mom’s going to be mad. And she won’t care I ruined my new outfit because of a kitten.