Craig's List. Where else do you go when you've found a beautiful, purebred cat who was obviously well cared for, begging for food in your near-inner city yard?
She was beautiful. Scared. Hungry.
She loved us.
We had food.
|She Needed Food.|
|She Wanted Love.|
I suspect there's some sort of Underground Cat Railroad symbol posted in the alley. They come to us. We help them find their way home, wherever that is.
Craig's List showed us who to call. Kiwi's family missed her; her daughter-cat was crying, her five-year old human boy was sad, and she was a beautiful, lost , precious member of the family. Peter suggested Craig's List. Good thing. These guys would have eaten her alive.
|Hobie, Who Feels at Home Wherever He Lands.|
|This Guy is Trouble.|
Gris Gris is a scrapper. He defends his turf tooth and nail. That poor little girl wouldn't have survived intact. Our last foster kittie, Moses, was terrorized daily until we found him a happy (spoiled rotten) home. Moishe now sups on lox at his nightly whim. I should be so lucky.
So, happy homecoming, Kiwi. And thank you, Kiwi's family. We know she's well loved.