On Monday night, I was happily midning my own business, wandering back from dance class (to be blogged about in another post) when I saw something dart across the dark street. A little white blur. A shape I recognize as not a rat, but a kitten. A KITTEN. In Friendship Heights, land of the reflex-challenged, octogenarian driver. Not a safe place for said feline.
I darted after my quarry, and chased him into the bushes near my condo. Sadly, it was dark, and the bushes dense, and I couldn't flush him out. I sat on the ground near the bushes to wait, dragging a stick along the ground to lure him out. After a few minutes, I realized this doesn't work on feral cats, and went for the cat food.
Dumping the friskies on the dirt near the bush where cat was last spied, I backed off to wait again. Of course, kitten comes out to feed. BUT IT WAS NOT THE SAME KITTEN. It was a DIFFERENT, TABBIER kitten. Excitement ensues. 2 for the price of one. Of course, at this moment, a JOGGER cruises by & the kitten runs off to hide. AGAIN. Two people slowly walk towards me, and I whisper, "SHH. KITTEN IN THE BUSHES. FERAL. TRYING TO TRAP." All as one word, really. I'm surprised they even understood what the hell I was saying. Gamely, they try to lure the kitten out. Of course, he is having NONE of it, and after another half an hour, we admit defeat.
Kitten wins this round, but he will be mine. I plan on going out there again with food & a blanket, and lying in wait until he shows up again. Then I will trap him with the blankie, and I will have a kitten.
DAMN YOU FERAL CAT, FOR BEING SO WILY.
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2 comments:
HA!! Tell me if you need some help! Poor kitties!!!
Poor kitties. . .poor FERAL kitties. . .
While I do feel sad for kitties, um, if you bring them into your house, will we find you weeks later, half eaten by said feral cats?
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