THE RETURN OF FABULOUS FELINE FRIDAY: FROM "BOOTS" TO "ROSCOE"

It was September 2011. I was taking waste to the compactor in the yard when I heard the mewling sound of a kitten in distress. I looked around, finally concluding it was coming from some empty flower pot. I went over to them.

Inside one was a tiny black and white kitten. It was just old enough to have its eyes open. It was really tiny. I realized immediately it had been abandoned by Patches - the least-successful of the feral moms living around us - who had just had a litter.

I brought it inside. It was crying piteously, and seemed hungry. Jurate got a small baby bottle she had used to care for another kitten, put some milk in and warmed it just a bit on the stove.

The tiny kitten was indeed hungry, it drained the bottle and cried for more. She 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 out and bought some baby formula.

The next day, we took it to our vet. He identified it as male, about 10 days old, and yes, it was the runt. He told us the kitten would need constant care; it had been close to death when I found it. Jurate declared she wanted to care for the little guy and we left with some kitten formula and antibiotic.

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

At first, we called him “Boots” due to his rear feet being white. Gradually he stopped looking like “rat boy” and started looking like a kitten.

At six weeks, Jurate weaned him onto wet food and he kept growing. She named him Roscoe.

Roscoe grew to be a handsome fellow, who thinks he’s a person. He was and is 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 who goes to the door to greet people. He’s still small for an adult male cat, and he’s as smart as he looks.

When Jurate became the one needing care, Roscoe stepped up to the task. He napped with her in the crook of her arm when she became bedridden, and gave her all the attention she once gave him.

As it turned out, I wasn’t the only one who got depressed after she departed. Roscoe reverted to some bad habits I thought he’d grown or been trained out of, particularly “inappropriate urination.”

One thing I have managed to learn is that yelling at an animal when they do something wrong will never solve the problem, but will make it worse. Fortunately, I had discovered “Resolve,” which really is a “urine destroyer” as it says on the label. And I also discovered “Pooph,” an odor eliminator that can wipe out any smell. So I could clean up the mess and then be sure there was nothing left to attract him into a repeat performance at that location. But he was persistent.

I realized he was missing all the love and personal attention he had gotten from his “mom.”

So I began going out of my way to praise him when he was behaving. When I walked past him, I picked him up and paid attention to him and played with him. I knew I was getting somewhere when I found him sleeping on the new bed during the day. There wasn’t any “mom” smell on it, but he had decided it was a place where he liked being.

I’ve kept up paying attention to him through the day. When he comes in the writing office, I invite him to jump in my lap. If I’m eating a snack, I share with him if he shows interest in it.

Roscoe always paid attention to me, since I have always been the Food Giver. Now he hangs out with me because we’re buddies.

There’s still an occasional lapse, but they’re further and further apart. I think the fact I had to treat myself for depression made me more aware that he was also depressed. We’re becoming undepressed together.

It turns out it’s true. Love really is all you need.

I’m glad I heard him crying when I did and rescued him.

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