Despite my particular distaste for such feline creatures, I always have a tender spot in my heart for animals.
Upon my moving into the Mesa house, there was a smell... a yucky-rotting-dead-smell. In the backyard, there is a small utility closet which is built into the exterior of the house. With the intentions of discovering that reeking smell, my dad opened the closet and found two cats and a skunk... all dead, decomposing, and maggot-infested. Aside from being completely appalled and disgusted, I admittedly went to the bedroom and cried. When my sister and brother-in-law were moving out of this house, I guess these poor animals accidentally got locked in. I was overcome with guilt/sadness, and I vowed to never close that utility closet door. If animals needed a place of refuge... they could go to the closet, and maybe I could start a zoo.
Such animal compassion resulted in an unexpected surprise, just last weekend.
On Saturday, I went to the utility closet to get a bucket, and I discovered a kitten -- a fluffy, tiny, frightened, bright-eyed kitten. He was absolutely adorable, and yes, I'm sure it was a "he"... I checked his furry butt. In the midst of spare tires and outdoor paraphernalia shoved into the utility closet, Momma Cat nursed this kitten. I named him Tyger because he's feisty, he bit me SUPER hard, and I like William Blake.
I knew I couldn't keep the little guy because I would be sneezing up a storm, but I felt so guilty leaving him in my backyard! The following Sunday, I ran to the closet, but he and Momma Cat were gone. I honestly felt sad... I'm not a cat person, but I wanted that kitten. Occasionally, I see Momma Cat skulking around. When neighbors leave their car windows open, she'll be lounging in the backseat (which I find hysterical.) I imagine that Tyger is lodged in a new safe place, and I hope he'll find his way to my closet again.