I set up a little water dish and litter box, and found some canned cat food to give him. He ate ravenously then fell asleep for the rest of that afternoon/evening.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep him, so I’d planned on taking him to the shelter the next day. (That’s the responsible thing to do, right?)
Wrong! As it turned out, the shelters in the Raleigh area, where I found him, were all at maximum capacity. This, in combination with his sickly state, would mean that he’d be put down immediately after turning him over to the Humane Society.
I wasn’t a cat person really, but the thought of this innocent, helpless little fur ball being put down killed me a little.
So I took him home that night and figured I could find him an adopter myself (who wouldn’t want this little bundle of joy??). If I could help him get well, he’d be a perfect kitten to adopt.
The next day I took him to the vet. She gave us some antibiotics to help clear up the upper respiratory infection he had (that is what was causing the crusty eyes). I could feel myself becoming a little attached, already throwing around name ideas (I had to call him something during our time together, right?).
Note: we’re in my garage here. He couldn’t really come inside because my dad is allergic to cats–even though I’ve heard they don’t develop there allergy-producing coats until later in life.