Meet Frankie!

So, earlier in August I was over at Jake’s, and we were coming home late at night from… something down at the Playhouse I think… whatever it was we had to park further from his apartment than usual, and thus wound up walking past the abandoned house at the end of his block, where we picked up a little tag-along in the form of a small, 6 month old tuxedo kitten. Of course being the cat person I am, I could imediatly tell by it’s body language and plaintive mews that it wasn’t feral, and just wanted some attention, so I gave it a scratch behind the ears and it followed us all the way to Jake’s apartment, where I said godnight to the little dearling, and we headed inside…

Then Fridge Logic kicked in… it wasn’t wearing a collar, and it picked us up near the abandoned house… OH NO! We left a homless kitten out in the cold!!!! So I went out looking for him, but he wasn’t at the door anymore. Jake’s downstairs neighbors were chilling on the stoop and wanted to know what I was looking for, so I told them, and after a jog up and down the block looking for the kitten, I went back inside, and figured it was probably for the best… what was I going to do with it if I found it anyhow?

And just as I convinced myself to feel a bit better about it… there’s a knock at the door. The downstairs neighbors are standing there, holding the kitten, under it’s arms like Simba from the Lion King… but less lovingly. “I think we found the cat you were looking for.” I nodded, “Take it?” they shoved it into my arms and disappeared down the stairs.

So there I am with a kitten and no idea what to do with it, because it’s 11:30 at night and Jake isn’t supposed to have pets in his apartment. First order of business, we feed him a can of tuna fish in the bathroom, and I send Jake to the 24hour supermarket for one of those one time use disposable litter boxes. We left it in the bathroom overnight, and took it to the vet on Sunday Morning, in a laundry basket with a fitted sheet pulled over the top to keep it in.

So, they tell us, it’s a male, he does not have FIV or FLV, but he does have fleas, and he isn’t neutered.

I call my roommate from the vet. “How do you feel about another cat in the apartment?” Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem phased. So “Little Man” comes home with me. I wasn’t about to name him yet at that point, as the next order of business was to poster “Found Cat” for 8 or 9 blocks around Jake’s apartment to see if he had a family.

Well… two weeks with no replies, and we went and took down all the posters, I bought him a collar and ordered him tags, and got him to my regular vet for a new patient exam, and scheduled him for a neuter. He’ll be going under the knife the same day Trixie gets her dental cleaning.

He’s a pistol this one… bouncy as all heck, but he likes to sleep in my bed with me, which Trixie hasn’t done since the first week I had her. We have to keep him in my room for a few months more, then we’ll start letting him out to see Trixie under supervision… and eventually he’ll be able to roam free, but right now, they need to acclimate to one another.


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