Cat tales

I've been seeing a little black cat around our house. At first, I thought it belonged to our next door neighbor, because I'd see it sunning itself on his patio. But a few days ago, I noticed that the kitty was desperately thin and seemed to be wandering. Last time I tried to feed her, she had scampered by the time I got out with the food.

Tonight, Trent and I came home from a friend's going away party at about midnight. As we were walking up our driveway, I saw the kitty huddled by a neighbor's garage. This time she was still there when I came out with food. After a brief moment of shyness, she quickly got friendly with me, and was curled up on my lap ten minutes later when Trent came out to see what I was doing. Like the other members of my family, I have a rescuing gene. I couldn't leave her out in the rain and risk not finding her again.

She's been living rough. She's scrawny, and has some scabs and bald patches. But at least at one point in her life, she was someone's kitty. We've temporarily lodged her in the big dog crate we have from when we were fostering Briscoe, and I'll get her to the vet tomorrow to scan for a microchip and get her checked out. Stay tuned for pictures (although black cats are damn hard to photograph).