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The operation begins with gearing up. A thick towel. Gloves normally reserved for the quasi-Olympic sport of Extreme Snowball Fighting. The syringe….
….and the cat milk.
Number Nine (yeah, he doesn’t have a name yet) is too little. I said he was too little! But it was too late, they’d already taken him away from his feral mother for a day by the time I got to him. She might have rejected him by then and I couldn’t say no to the begging faces. But–he’s too little!
Feeding him is an ordeal that takes at least two people. He wants to nurse, but there is no mama to nurse him, only a syringe. And his tiny paws have sharp claws.
He’s too little. Nobody ever listens to me.
Did I not tell Kennedy to stay away from the grassy knoll?
Okay, I wasn’t even born then, but I would have told him that.
Number Nine looks like he’d like a grassy knoll right about now.
Get ‘er down.
Number Nine agrees it was an ordeal.
We all deserve a little Judge Judy down time now.
Yeah, I know, she is scary, isn’t she, Number Nine?
But we love her, just like we love you!
Even if you are too little………… And the Children Who Wanted Him keep going to school and leaving me alone with him and I have to feed him all by myself without all the hazardous materials gear they wear when they pair up to do it. HELP.
