I had just picked up coffee from my favorite coffee shop, and was driving down Main headed home, when I saw something dart across the road. It was the size of a squirrel, but didn’t move like a squirrel, was a streak of gray and white, but wasn’t an opossum. I slowed down to look as it ran toward a tree and saw the outlines of a cat. I pulled off the road and approached. It ran away and I could tell it was a kitten. Oh dear. I cornered it in a rose bush (or something with thorny stems, I didn’t even feel the scratches) and pulled it out by the scruff of its neck. It is amazing the problems that can be solved in the heat of the moment; I dumped all the items out of my car organizer and had a make-shift carrier, complete with zipped mesh top. (I’ve had it for years, never considered that it was appropriate temporary containment for small critters.) I took him (definitely a he) by the vet’s office and they said he was about 2 months old and yes, a boy, and did not seem to be harmed by his flight across four lanes of traffic. I took him home (the local cat shelter is full up with bottle fed babies), brushed out the burrs, clipped his nails, and gave him a bath with baby soap. One of the vet techs suggested the name “Thorn”.

He is set up in the spare room, which is where I usually put ferals to recover from getting fixed. We’ll see how he does with some kitten food and cuddles, get him an official vet visit and get him neutered, then see about finding him a home. My husband is allergic to male cats (our working theory is they don’t tend to be as fastidious about grooming as some females), so he is safe and cared for now, but can’t stay here. I guess I’ve been selected to foster.