FABULOUS FELINE FRIDAY - THE LITTLE BOY IN THE FLOWER POT

I’m glad with today’s news that I can lower my blood pressure (and hopefully yours) with this story.

It was September 2011, and I was taking out waste to the compactor in the back yard when I heard the mewling sound of a kitten in distress. I dropped what I was carrying and went looking around. Finally I concluded the sound was coming from some empty flower pots and went over to check them.

There was a tiny black and white kitten, that didn’t look old enough to have its eyes open yet, in one of the pots. It was really tiny, and I realized immediately it must have been abandoned by Patches - the least-successful of the feral moms on the property - who had just given birth to a litter of kittens.

I picked it up and brought it inside. It was crying piteously, and seemed hungry. Jurate immediately got out a small baby bottle she had kept from caring for another kitten, put some milk in it and warmed it just a bit on the stove.

The tiny kitten was indeed hungry, it drained the bottle and cried for more. We fed it two bottles that first hour.

In truth, the kitten could have been mistaken for a mouse or even a baby rat - it didn’t look all that catlike. I went down to the store and bought some baby formula.

The next day, we took the little thing to our vet. He identified it as a male, about 10 days old, and yes, it was definitely a runt. He told us the kitten would need careful care because it had been close to death when I found it in the flower pot. Jurate declared she wanted to care for the little guy and we left with some kitten formula and some antibiotic to give prophylactically, to be sure he was OK.

Jurate fed that little guy every two hours for the next six weeks. She set up a hot water bottle wrapped in a blanket with a wind-up alarm clock inside to mimic a heartbeat and set up a little nest so he could sleep with his “mommy.”

Gradually he stopped looking like “rat boy” and started looking like a kitten. When he was six weeks old, Jurate weaned him onto wet food and he kept growing. She named him Roscoe.

Today, 11 years later, Roscoe is a handsome fellow, who thinks he’s a person - well, actually he is a person since all sentient beings have “personhood” here at Le Chateau du Chat. He’s easily the most personable cat I’ve even known, and everyone who’s ever met him loves him. He’s never met a human he didn’t like. He’s the kitty who goes to the door to greet people.

You would never know to look at him that he was once the runt of the litter. And he’s as smart as he looks.

Now that Jurate’s the one who needs care, Roscoe has stepped up to the task. He divides his day between playing with me and asking for snacks, and napping with her in the crook of her arm in the hospital bed she’s now confined to. He gives her all the attention she once gave him and is there beside her all night. She’s still able to play with him, and his presence brings her a lot of joy.

Roscoe’s the very definition of a sweetheart. I’m glad I heard him crying when I did and found him.

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