Some utterly evil piece of crap left a kitten in a shoebox, under a bush, at the house across the street. I guess I should be grateful the box was open, as the lid had holes poked in it that were way too small for a kitten to use for air. I'm also grateful that it was about 63 degrees out, as opposed to the 40 or so it was a couple weeks ago, so this kitten didn't freeze to death.
The poor thing was screaming, that surprisingly strong yowl that sounds like an angry bird. That's how I found him--I went outside to take Tass to the train station, and heard it before I got into the car.
He, of course, does not want me to keep him, because I already have two kitties and a not-so-big house. I'm keeping him at least until I can get his first shots and find it a good home; the shelters in this area are too overstocked and would probably euthanize him immediately.
He is, I believe, a "him," he has teeny tiny testicles as far as I can see. I'm calling him Machiavelli to make Tass like him more. He can't be more than 4 or 5 weeks old, as his eyes aren't completely open yet, and he's currently asleep inside my sweatshirt.
More pictures:
The poor thing was screaming, that surprisingly strong yowl that sounds like an angry bird. That's how I found him--I went outside to take Tass to the train station, and heard it before I got into the car.
He, of course, does not want me to keep him, because I already have two kitties and a not-so-big house. I'm keeping him at least until I can get his first shots and find it a good home; the shelters in this area are too overstocked and would probably euthanize him immediately.
He is, I believe, a "him," he has teeny tiny testicles as far as I can see. I'm calling him Machiavelli to make Tass like him more. He can't be more than 4 or 5 weeks old, as his eyes aren't completely open yet, and he's currently asleep inside my sweatshirt.
More pictures:
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