This past Saturday we invited a new kitten into our home. My son named her Annabeth after a character in the Percy Jackson series. The sign on her cage at the shelter warned that she was very scared and very shy. She was feral and just hid in the corner every day. But every time we picked her up she purred like crazy and hugged and kneaded us. The guy at the shelter seemed to think she would be fine once she felt comfortable in a new home. She had only been at the shelter a week and was still very young. We were smitten.
But she didn't make it. She continued to purr every time we picked her up and she loved to snuggle. But she didn't move and she didn't eat or drink. That final night we tried using a water dropper to keep her hydrated. Finally we decided the shelter was wrong. She wasn't merely scared or nervous, she was sick. And it was too late. Our vet did not know why she was sick. It wasn't viral. But she was too far gone for the vet to save her and her three month old system couldn't fight back.
After two days in our home we lost her. Amazing how sad we feel about a kitten that was only in our lives for two days. We will always remember her. At least she ended her short life in a comfortable and quiet setting with people who showed her loving attention. That's the best spin I can put on it now.
