This small scrap of black fluff is Waiting.
Waiting for tests, to make sure she’s healthy enough to come home to be with our other cat. (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus and Feline Leukemia Virus are serious infections, passed from cat to cat and potentially acquired at or before birth.)
Waiting to get big enough to be tested. She was not even big enough to draw blood on yet when she first saw the vet, and some of the tests aren’t accurate before 8 weeks of age, due to antibodies that can be acquired from the mother.
She was found alone in a field, covered in mud and less appealing, more smelly stuff, with cuts of her back legs. She weighed less than a pound. Acquaintances of my husband’s found her and brought her into their house. My husband had just been making noises about getting a second cat (surprisingly, because for many years, he’s been Mr. “We-Don’t-Need-No-Steenkin’-Pets”. Not that we haven’t had/don’t have pets! However, the only one of them that actually came into our household totally-on-purpose was my old cat Thisby, whom I brought home from the Humane Society when I was in training, before we were married).
The initial plan was to wait a little, have her checked out as above, have everybody meet her, then decide if we could adopt her; but we realized we needed to relocate her from the acquaintances’ house when it was apparent that they were feeding her baby rice cereal mixed with Pedialyte….and Kitten Chow which she had trouble getting down (when we took her to the vet, she said she was only 5 weeks old).
So at the moment, this kitten-in-Waiting is staying at my husband’s recording studio: charming musicians, perching on shoulders, snarfing down soft food and crushed dry food, and growing like a weed.
She has a name: Beya. She seems to be very happy Waiting.
Because, after all, while you’re Waiting, you can always play!
Please send good thoughts this way for Beya’s good health. We’re all Waiting and hoping.
W is for Waiting.