The Stray

So I got home from work today and discovered a kitty sitting on my back patio. She’s extremely emaciated and was constantly scratching at herself, so I’m thinking she probably has fleas. I scared her on accident, but I left out a can of wet food on a plate for her. Went out to dinner, came home…nothing.

So I sat down to edit a story I’ve been working on for a few weeks now. Ironically, it’s a story about empathy. A few minutes ago I took a break from editing, peeked out the door wall, and the stray was there scarfing it down.

I don’t know that we would be able to keep her, but I at least want to try and get her to trust me so she can become comfortable around humans. Maybe I would be able to find a home for her. (Or maybe I can convince The Boyfriend that three cats is better than two.)

I grew up in the woods (literally) and now that I live in a more popular area I know strays are inevitable. I also know feeding them isn’t the wisest thing. Yet that tiny part of my brain that can’t resist animals is saying, “but what if you can make her trust you, and love you, and give her a nice home?”

Fingers crossed.

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