Now Listening to: “Pussycat Meow” by Deee-Lite, The Infinity Within, 1992.
There’s a kitten living in my hedge. I first heard it Friday night, mewling over and over again, but I couldn’t locate it. Later, I thought I saw it on the back porch, but by the time I’d unlocked the door it was gone. Last night it returned, sending out the sonar-like cries of a kitten in search of its mother. It’s black, which makes it hellish to find at night, and very small. The damned thing is not interested in humans at all, seems to be most comfortable in the middle of thick laurel hedges, and I’m guessing is at least four weeks old since it can run like hell when a flashlight beam gets too close to it.
Given its size, I assume it’s either abandoned or from the litter of a stray who’s been killed. There was a dead cat in the road a few blocks up, so my suspicion is the latter. We set out a bowl of milk-soaked cat food, hoping our visitor might be tempted to emerge when unobserved and find something to eat. The bowl was empty this morning, but it’s hard to say what ate from it, since strays, raccoons, birds and the occasional opossum might have taken an interest as well.
If we do manage to lure it into the open, the little guy’s destined for the caring services of the humane society. I say this now because, well, we are all subject to our baser desires from time to time. Generally, they lead us to decisions we mighn’t otherwise make with a clear head in the light of day. The horrible tempting power of kitten must be resisted!