What happened was we heard yowling on the back steps around 8 o'clock. I thought it was one of the neighborhood toughs trying to intimidate my cats so I didn't really pay much attention. John said he saw a cat on the steps but it ran away from him. So when the yowling began again I decided to go see for myself. I took the flashlight out, peered under the dog shelter where the sounds were coming from, and discovered a tiny calico kitten, no more than 8 weeks old, absolutely starving and near-hysterical from loneliness. She ran off and I had to chase her through the yard but eventually I lured her to me with a can of tuna and brought her into the house. She wouldn't stop meowing. My cats were incensed, naturally. They hissed and stared and fluffed up at her. I took her into my study and closed the door.

She immediately scooted under the desk and howled at me but I had brought the tuna. I know she wasn't feral or I could never have caught her, but when I rubbed her while she was wolfing down the tuna I could tell she'd been on her own for several days. She was skin and bones, nothing in her digestive tract and lots of icky things in her ears and eyes. She started purring while I looked her over. She was so scrappy and loud! I kept talking in my low cat-mom voice and when she finally stopped eating for a few minutes she butted up against my hand. I just about melted. I made stupid babytalk and nuzzled her. She kept talking but in a quieter tone. I lay down on the floor and she climbed all over me, digging into my flesh with her needle-sharp kitten claws. We had a wonderful time. My cats hovered outside the door, displeased and curious.

John came and visited us, bringing more milk, more catfood, etc. He heroically assisted in the rescue from start to finish. Leaving her, even for a few minutes, brought on the hysteria so I gave in and spent the night in the study with her. I'm fond of saying I'm too old for sleeping on floors but I did it because I figured the kitty needed the comfort. We fell asleep together with her curled up against my neck, and I slept very well all through the night. Each time she awoke she would cry for a few seconds, but then she would quiet her voice until she was just purring. It was heartbreaking to think she'd been abandoned once she was weaned. She ate and ate and ate. She used the catbox. She climbed all over me and talked to me if I didn't keep petting her while I used the computer. And that night the temperature dropped into the 40's for the first time since the beginning of the year. She wouldn't have made it much longer without me.

Yesterday, I took her to the vet to get examined, innoculated, and cleaned up while I was at work. I went ahead with the full range of tests, including feline leukemia and AIDS, despite the cost, because I knew I wasn't going to keep her and I wanted her to start out with all the things she needed. A friend of ours, Elaine Eschen, agreed to take her. Elaine is the local Cat Lady who takes in all the strays and gets them fed up, medicated, and fixed, then finds homes for them. I'm grateful she didn't have 11 cats at the moment as she sometimes has. So the kitten (who tested negative for the bad things, yay) is now settled in with Elaine, and only needs a couple more booster shots and to be spayed in four months. She's a very affectionate little beast. Rescued pets are just wonderful. I know; all three of mine are rescues. Dixie came from the Humane Association, Natasha was found in the woods, and Keiko was left in a paper bag in a parking lot.

So if I've taken in rescues for pets, why would I have a karmic debt to repay? Well, I'm horribly ashamed of this but I'll tell you why. My very first cat was given to me by some friends who saw the litter in a box on a busy street corner in Seattle. I took the kitten, a small black shorthair whom I named Floon Austen, and raised her for eight months. Then I moved to San Francisco. I didn't have a regular place to live. I didn't have much money. So I gave Floon to two friends who promised to take care of her. And they did, for a while, but not the kind of care I wanted her to have. They didn't spay her, and she got pregnant. They kept one of her kittens but the two cats didn't get along very well. Then, the friends broke up quite acrimoniously, and moved apart. Floon took to spending a lot of time outdoors. One day she was hit by a car and died. I have felt guilty for years over taking on a pet before I could really care for it. I'm not saying it's a big trauma in my life or anything but it's bothered me more than I've ever let on. I felt I owed a debt.