We have too many animals. 46 goats, 20 sheep, 2 dogs. This is pared down from a hundred plus animals we moved here with. My husband said long ago, before we were married, that if I wasn’t careful he would keep building and building up the animals, that he was, potentially, an animal hoarder.
A cat dumped a litter of kittens under the old granary at the Bateman place. They were multicolored and mewing. I feared they were a snack for my huge white guard dog. I could hear them, but not see them, on my daily treks to the bathroom. Then one morning, a little grey stripey kitten was in front of our path, our huge dog charged it ignoring my screams, I saw only kitten blood splattered over the faces of my husband and daughter. Our dog sniffed it, nosed it, and then of all things, tried to play with it.
Feral cats litter the countryside. My mother-in-law feeds, neuters, and keeps the ones that land at her door, some coming on their own steam, others dumped off there in the cover of darkness. The house is crawling with cats. My house is crawling with a baby. I don’t much care for animals indoors, not even my husband’s boots. If I was allowed my insanities I would have little tissue booties for everyone as they stepped into my 10′ by 20′ living space. All of this is to say, that a kitten on my floor spilling tuna fish from her mouth was the last thing I had hoped for.
But here she is. Little orphan Jane, whose mother and litter mates abandoned her. Did she nap while they were moving? Did her mother move all but the last one? How did this little grey thing get left behind? She came to us mewing in the dark. Starving. How did she find us?