One night in May 2018, my phone rang...

(more pics below the story)

It was a pleasant spring evening. I was just home from another week on the road delivering auto parts from the Great Lakes to Texas and back via Oklahoma. (That was an interesting gig - dealership stuff going down and something light from Flex-n-Gate coming back.)

The number on the phone said it was my dumb-ass friend who always wants to talk politics so I usually don't answer his calls. That night  I must've felt moved because I answered the phone. We greeted each other with vulgarity, as usual, and that's not trope. He was one of those guys and I just gave it back to him because I thought it was funny.

After a minute of conversation he said a KITTEN was in the middle of his back yard and wouldn't stop making noise, like mewing.

I knew he had a bunch of stray cats running around his yard (rodent control he called them) but I hadn't heard about any kittens. I supposed it made sense with wild cats.

I asked him why the hell he was telling me about it. Then I told him to go take care of it or take it to its mother or something. He said he didn't know where its mother was, and that he'd put some water and kibble out for it, and a cardboard box. But it kept mewing and wouldn't stop. It wouldn't eat or drink either. And it's been going on all day. At that time it was about 11pm. Finally he mentioned that the kitten was tiny, like "fit in the palm of your hand" tiny.

My advice was to bring it inside so a raccoon wouldn't eat it, because it was already full dark. And I said to try some warm milk. I really had no idea either, of what to do. But it didn't seem right to leave it alone and crying in the dark.

He said no. He said he had done what he could, and that was enough.

Then he goes back to his regular bullshit conversation about whatever was on the news that day. But I'm still thinking about that "kitten" mewing outside, alone in the dark.

So here's the trope: an angel and an imp sat on my shoulders, one on each side. The angel whispered in my ear, "go rescue that kitten!" The imp said it wasn't my problem, and I have enough of my own problems already. And I live in a truck five days out of seven, ffs.

I interrupted my friend and began to interrogate him on his plans for this obviously unhappy animal in his yard. Was he just going to ignore it and leave it there? Why wasn't it walking away on its own? Did he have raccoons in his yard? Opossums? Were either of those predators? Where the hell did its mother go? Can't she hear it? There are usually multiple kittens, so where are the rest?

He had no new information. The kitten was alone, been crying in the yard all day, still crying and alone, what can you do right?

"Alright, go see if it's still there and if it is, I'll come get it," I said to him.

My answer was too fast. But it had to be or else my brain would talk sense into my heart. I had no plan or preparation for this kind of scenario. I shooed him off the phone to go check on the animal.

I hoped it was gone. I didn't need or want a cat. Cute kitten or not, it's just not practical with my work situation.

My phone rang again within minutes. Before my friend's voice came through a persistent noise could be heard in the back ground, sharp, repetitive: MEW!  MEW! MEW!  MEW! MEW!

The sounds were desperate, piercing, and uncomfortable to hear. It evoked that primal instinct to comfort a crying baby. No wonder he called me.

Of course I went and scooped up the kitten, before I even went and got supplies. The little guy was louder in person, still carrying on when I pulled up in my friend's driveway five minutes later. Friend was standing next to his car and the kitten sat on the hood, still issuing those short punctuating cries. When I picked it up and held it close it quieted momentarily. Then it started back up mewing again, this time directly into my ear. It sounded hungry.

Promptly I stashed it in the box I'd brought and got going to the store for supplies. I figured canned food would be good. Found out later that I was wrong. Turned out, he wouldn't eat it. He'd drink the juice from the cans but wouldn't eat the food.

The next day a friend told me about goat's milk and kitten milk powder (both available at Walmart - who knew). He noshed on the goat's milk as soon as I gave it to him. Got him on the kitten milk too. Then it just became a matter of letting him sit on my lap constantly.

A quick look told me he was a boy kitten, and a little Google-fu told me that since his eyes were still blue he was less than two weeks old.

Two days later it was time to get back in the truck for another weekly round of trucking. I couldn't imagine leaving the kitten alone at home, even with family. He hadn't been with them. He had taken residence on my lap and never wandered except to eat or use his litter.

So I made the executive decision to bring him in the truck with me.