Several days ago, as I started down into the woods with the chainsaw, I scared some animal who took off down the road. It was about the size of a cat, but ran more like a rabbit. I considered a fox but it was dark colored. Didn't think any more about it.
Yesterday as I started out to cut wood, there on the downstairs deck sat a small charcoal colored cat, 3/4 starved, and so exhausted it could barely keep its eyes open. It was clearly at the end of its rope, but crawled off into the bushes when I approached. I got some food and managed to coax it into an appearance, but it wouldn't approach me even for food. I went away, and it dived in, and when I came back I laid down on the deck as close as it would allow. Each time I got more food I lay closer until I could touch it. Got it some water and a cardboard box with a wool blanket and put it outside the downstairs entrance behind the woodpile.
When Melody got home, we agreed to bring it in and quarantine it in the downstairs bedroom. We had had three straight nights of temperatures in the 20's, and without any fat (or much meat) and no food, I'm not sure how it survived. It appears to be young and not to have eaten in a couple weeks.
Today we called the vet to get it checked over before exposing it to our other cats (ka-ching) and then called Safe Haven only to find their shelter is full to overflowing. So I guess we is it. Didn't want it, didn't ask for it, as a practical manner can't really accommodate another cat, but like a pregnancy (bet I caught your eye with that title) we're stuck with it. Talk about gratitude, this cat is non-stop gratitude. We even gave it a bath today without undue complaint. Now we can deal with vaccinations (ka-ching), worming (ka-ching), flea medicine, collars, harnesses (ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching), leash, catbox, microchip (ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching), neutering, food dish and all the other accouterments of cat management (oxymoron) -- all to destabilize the tranquillity of our home by incurring the wrath and vehement protest of Cricket.
Actually, Cricket yowls and hisses when she smells the new one on our hands, but though she knows it's down there, she hasn't tried to tear the door down to get at it, she doesn't challenge it from the other room, and she hasn't raised near the ruckus she did when Shadow first came. We'll see.
Dave