We're closing in on the fifth anniversary of the beginning of our adventure with Fred and Wilma, so I thought I'd re-run this post from 2019. Enjoy.
It's a crap day at the farmette - ice pellets coming from the sky and a howling east wind that cut through my forehead as I went to to the workshop to feed the kittens this morning. Kittens!!!
Yes. On Friday, a couple of wee ones showed up as Rob was working on installing a new overhead lightbulb in the garage. Initially, we thought they belonged to Joanne, our next-door neighbour who has barn cats and sometimes the offspring make their way into our yard.
She said she didn't have any little ones, and speculated that they were drop-offs. We're on the south edge of town with the municipal dump (recycling facility in politer parlance) nearby. Some people think that our area is also a dumping ground for inconvenient pets. Rotten buggers.
Reminds me of growing up in Frome. Half of our pets started as drop-offs.
Anyhow, Rob initially spotted a little tortoise-shell who was eating bits of suet that had fallen and were intended for woodpeckers. She was very skittish and bolted. But then, a little brown tabby and white emerged, trotted into the garage and claimed Rob as his own. He even trying to climb up his leg!
So, of course, his heart melted - as did mine.
Off to the vets Rob went for kitten food while I figured out temporary accommodations where they would be warm and comfy. Not in the house, for fear of transmitting some gawdawful parasite to our feline crew.
No, we set up a spot in the woodworking shop much like when Hobbes was just a scrap of wheezing orange fur. Thank goodness for Amazon. Their box made a great cat bed, with an old towel and a stuffy toy to boot. The other is the box from skates I bought last weekend. We still had the heat lamp from the Hobbes days, so that was set up (at a safe distance) to keep the babies warm.
We spent a restless night on Friday worrying about the tortie because she was so skittish we lost track of her - she was still on the loose. On Saturday, which was gorgeous, I was hanging lights on the eaves above the deck, and heard this plaintive 'mew' from inside the tool shed.
Sure enough, she had wedged herself deep in the back corner of the building, behind the bookshelf loaded with garden supplies, which was NAILED TO THE WALL. After about an hour of disassembling the whole thing, she bolted again and a merry chase ensued.
Finally, at the end of the day, Rob rescued her from the rafters just under the eaves. She fought and scratched and howled, but we got her into the carriage and out to the shop to join her brother (we think).
This morning, I caught them both tangled up in the same bed - and again, my heart melted. We've got a vet appointment for Tuesday to get them checked out - will likely need to de-worm and de-flea them, among other things.
We've even named them Fred (the brown tabby) and Wilma. Nicknamed Freddie and Willie (that nickname never stuck). We may be 'cat central' as sister Sandy says. That's okay. We've got lotsa love to give, and I'm sooooo glad they're out of the elements - especially today.
Here's a more recent (gratuitous) photo of the two. Hale and hardy and warm.
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