I never expected that I would get another cat, my bonded pair are going to be 9 this coming January. It wouldn't be fair to my little old ladies. Then again, I never expected my husband would have a stroke at 34. And yet seven months later I was thinking about adding to our family. A friend was asking for her help for her aunt to find homes for a litter she had found abandoned. There were three kittens and I fell in love with the runt of the litter and said I would take one before even telling my husband. Only a few weeks old, she would come from Indiana on the aunt's next trip.
We picked up the kitten on my husband's 35th birthday, a milestone I had thought for a moment we might not make. At first we thought we had a little boy but I knew right away it was a little girl. Like any parents we had names picked out and Minerva was soon in her Daddy's hand, which her whole body fit perfectly. The vet confirmed she was just 5 weeks. We quickly realized she wouldn't take to a bottle after two weeks of eating on her own. Her first taste of milk had us laughing as she tried to drink it right from the can in the car on the way home.
Today she is almost seven months, and still Daddy's girl. She greets us at the door when we come home, gives her sisters a real workout with her energy, and steals dog food from her brother when she thinks no one is looking. Little Bit, as we often call her, is still little and likely won't be a big cat. She is also one of the most loving and social cats I have had. Most of all, Minerva has brought the smile back to my husband. I thank her little pink nose for that everyday.