THE NEW KITTY has a name. And, at this point, it will only change if she insists on it. The name is Karma.
Yeah, I know. I know. Your karma ran over my dogma. Hah. Oh, and: ha! By that, I think she should be called Katma. But I don’t get a say.
Doesn’t matter. She meets the one-and-only criterion for being a cat in our household: she’s cute.
She weighs roughly a pound-and-a-half. Which makes her probably the smallest kitty we’ve adopted. Not, I should add, the smallest either one of us has known. I’ve handled kittens and puppies fresh out of the womb — literally: born by caesarian section. There is nothing like stroking breath into that tiny body. It’s the most numinous experience in my life, lemme tell ya.
We weren’t planning to have her come home so soon, so we’re scrambling to get ready for it. But the foster household needs the bed space and there’s no real reason to delay, except that Toni didn’t want Karma’s first weeks in the house to be so discombobulated as they will — due to the press of engagements better left unmentioned for security reasons.
So, say, “Hello!” to Karma.
Photos by Toni Alger and Janet Saylor. Used by permission.