Solstice Kitty

I never said anything about a heart wrenching night several months ago. Button found a little orange kitten half way up the drive. That much I saw. I couldn't catch it in the Lush and the dark. It spent the night out there crying loud and pitiful. The next morning it was gone, not to be seen or heard from again. It's a living predatory zoo out there.

Unless. This fluffy orange sack of bones came begging at the front door the other day. She, I checked, is ravenous and looks to be six to nine months old, the catten stage. There are a few dings and despite the extreme boniness, she looks to be in overall good spirits.

She also made it perfectly clear to everyone involved she was not going anywhere. There has been remarkably very little drama from this disturbance in the equilibrium. Three other cats have probably known about it all along. It's been cold and icky and they don't want to be out there anyway. She has food, water and a warm comfy place to sleep for now.

If this kitten survived the entire summer out there in the wild, it is an impressive show of endurance. I named her Solly, the solstice kitty. She might be a keeper. She just needs to stay put for a few more days.

On the longest night of the year I spent my day in restful hibernation with a ravenous kitty. I could have gone to work, but I wasn't in the mood. I didn't even achieve a state of puttering.

There was an air of recuperation about.