I was leaving to return a rented DVD tonight when I heard a “mew!” through the front door. Oh, dear.
She looks to be about 12 weeks old. Her coat is healthy and she isn’t scrawny or malnourished, though she was certainly hungry. She’s also quite snuggly, which suggests that she has a home. The eye infection suggests otherwise, as does the kinked and unnaturally short tail – something quite unpleasant must have happened to it.
And I have to work tomorrow, and on Saturday we have to be at a birthday party in Munich. So the in-laws are going to pick her up tomorrow and take her to their vet. Ignatz is going to hang up Found Cat Found flyers. If no one calls for her, we’ll try to find her a home: several of the boys’ friends said they wanted a kitten after we got Lilu.
Right, Lilu. Our already-cat. Not happy with the newcomer. Not happy at all.
We’re calling the intruder Fufu for now. The Sniglet wants to keep her.
Song du jour of the day: Bad Luck, by Royal City.