A small fuzzy tornado has hit our house. Sophie is an eight-week-old kitten, a calico with some gray tabby bits, and an unexpected and precious souvenir from a trip that had already been a highlight of the year.
I first saw Sophie while eating breakfast at the Comfort Inn in Winterville, NC. She had climbed up on a pool lounge chair that was right next to the window of the breakfast area, and was hollering for all she was worth at the people inside. After a few minutes of this, I went out to try and catch her, but she ran off as soon as she heard the door.
That evening, Mom and I had long-awaited dinner plans with some newfound cousins in the area, so we didn’t see the kitten again that night. But the next morning, there she was again at the window. Hotel staff told us that people had been giving her milk and muffins. This time Mom went outside, but was able to get only within 10 yards or so before the kitten bolted again. We began to fear that rescuing this kitten would be a longer-term project than our short vacation would allow.
In the interest of time, we decided to try a humane trap. PetSmart didn’t have any, but recommended we try Tractor Supply Company, which turned out to be right across the street from our hotel. We got the trap, some kitten food and a couple of dishes. That afternoon, when we got back from doing genealogical research at the library of East Carolina University, we went back to the pool. The kitten was there, still frantically seeking provisions. At breakfast, we had left her some chicken from dinner, and she had enjoyed that, but she didn’t seem to know where any drinkable water was—we saw her attempting to drink a spilled Dr. Pepper. She was also vacuuming up stray Doritos around the pool.
We set up the trap with some kitten food, and settled in to wait. She sniffed around it, but wouldn’t go in. Then some boisterous young men arrived at the pool, and the kitten headed for the trees. We didn’t want to leave the trap unattended, but knew we had little chance with her after that, so we gave up for the night.
Wednesday morning, with less than 24 hours left in town, we were feeling pretty defeated. We went out for breakfast (partially because it would break our hearts to see her at the window again), and brought her back some eggs and sausage. We searched the phone book and Internet for local humane organizations that might be able to help, but found that we would still have to be able to bring her in.
After a last day of genealogical research, we decided to get some pictures of her, in hopes that we could interest someone in a humane group in taking her on as a project. So we went back to the pool, camera in hand, and waited. No kitten.
Finally, I decided to look around the outside of the hotel; some remodeling was going on, and I thought maybe she had gotten outside the gate. I was astonished, and elated, to find her napping in a large cardboard furniture box with high sides. The son of a construction crew member had climbed a tree and captured her, setting her up in the box with the little water dish we’d left that morning (the eggs and sausage were long gone), plus some cardboard pieces for a little more shelter. His father wouldn’t let him keep the kitten, so he let us take her. I don’t even know his name, but I will always be grateful to that boy.
A little proper nutrition seemed to have done wonders for her—she was docile and cuddly, with a purr that suggested she was concealing an amplifier somewhere. She made the car trip back to Mom’s house like a real trouper, and passed her health exam with flying colors. On Friday, she came home to Newnan.
I’m cutting this short because Sophie has just woken up from a 90-minute nap. More on the feline festivities later.
