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- Feb 18, 2016
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It was about 10 years ago but I thought you might get a kick out of how Willie came to our house. 
My OH rushed in, all excited, worried and discombobulated. "There's a baby raccoon in the cat shelter." In the middle of November? I didn't think so and sent him back out to check the straw bales in the covered shelter where he'd been putting food out for stray and feral cats.
"You're right, it's a kitten. What should I do?" I asked him if he could catch it. We live in a cold climate, highly unlikely it would survive our cold, snowy winters. Especially since OH made a fist to show how big it was. Tiny. Yup, he thought he could catch it but I insisted he wear leather gauntlets.
"Little bugger bit me, I had to drop him." The wee thing bit right through thick leather gauntlets and it was so small OH was afraid to hold it tighter for fear of crushing the wee thing. So we got the smallest live trap out and wondered if the wee thing would weigh enough to even set it off.
Well, the wee thing was very hungry, went right into the trap and thankfully did set the door off. We brought it right inside and set it up in my office in a big cage with a cardboard box to hide in, litter tray and food and set up so I could change food, water and litter without worrying about escape attempts. He was very small, six weeks old at the very most. Grey tabby and white.
We named him Willie thinking he could be a Wilma if female, or Willie if male. He was a male. Willie socialled up just fine and in a month he was playing at my computer, catching paper as it came out of the printer and hanging around my neck as I worked. A friend of ours had been catless since their 19 year old had died and took Willie home with him. Willie is still happily with him.
My OH rushed in, all excited, worried and discombobulated. "There's a baby raccoon in the cat shelter." In the middle of November? I didn't think so and sent him back out to check the straw bales in the covered shelter where he'd been putting food out for stray and feral cats.
"You're right, it's a kitten. What should I do?" I asked him if he could catch it. We live in a cold climate, highly unlikely it would survive our cold, snowy winters. Especially since OH made a fist to show how big it was. Tiny. Yup, he thought he could catch it but I insisted he wear leather gauntlets.
"Little bugger bit me, I had to drop him." The wee thing bit right through thick leather gauntlets and it was so small OH was afraid to hold it tighter for fear of crushing the wee thing. So we got the smallest live trap out and wondered if the wee thing would weigh enough to even set it off.
Well, the wee thing was very hungry, went right into the trap and thankfully did set the door off. We brought it right inside and set it up in my office in a big cage with a cardboard box to hide in, litter tray and food and set up so I could change food, water and litter without worrying about escape attempts. He was very small, six weeks old at the very most. Grey tabby and white.
We named him Willie thinking he could be a Wilma if female, or Willie if male. He was a male. Willie socialled up just fine and in a month he was playing at my computer, catching paper as it came out of the printer and hanging around my neck as I worked. A friend of ours had been catless since their 19 year old had died and took Willie home with him. Willie is still happily with him.
