Tale of The Kittens

I was returning home from the post office when I saw him. A man was inspecting the bushes in front of my house. He wore a loose tee-shirt, baggy shorts, and a cap covering his longish brown hair. After a moment, I recognized him to be the new exterminator who comes during the summer months to spray insecticide (whatever you may think of that) around the perimeter of the house. What was he doing in the bushes?

I parked the car and he asked me, "Do you have a kitten?" "No," I replied, "but my husband had seen a cat in the bushes the other day." "Well," he said, "you have two kittens hiding in there now." Wow! I thought. Wouldn't it be nice to have a kitten? My house is pretty empty now and I would love a pet!

"Are you going to take them away?" I asked. "Maybe I could keep one... (Now that would be a surprise for my spouse. It would take some explaining...) The exterminator answered, "That's what I do when I'm not at this job. It's called Search and Rescue. I find wild abandoned animals and keep them until they're ready to be let out in the wild again or adopted. With kittens this young, it would take about a month; with a full-grown cat it could take about six months."

"If you tried to pick up this kitten," he continued, "a feral animal like this, he'd probably scratch you and bite you all over." With that warning, I decided to watch rather than try to grab one.

"Shall I bring out some milk or some food?" I asked, trying to be helpful. "Sure, if you have some tuna or milk, that would be great."

Thus began my Monday morning.

We spent about an hour outside, the exterminator - now turned Rescuer - trying to coax each kitten to the food. But he didn't grab the kitten right away. He actually waited patiently, saying, "I want it to eat." What a mensch, I thought. He really cares. So we waited, I in silence, he making little birdlike sounds. Slowly, he moved closer to the kitten. With one hand on the windowsill, he used his other to grab the kitten by the nape of its neck. It was so tiny!

I supplied a box, and the Rescuer proceeded to look for the second kitten he had espied earlier. As we hunted for it, I noticed not one but two more kittens on the other side of the doorway. They were running in our direction, as if looking for their missing sibling.

By this time, the morning was passing and I thought about going inside to begin my work. Should I leave the Rescuer and go about my routine? He was already late for his round of exterminations that he had to perform for the day. What will my leaving imply? Does it say that what he was doing at the moment, trying to save these kittens from starvation or elimination by the other animals in the neighborhood, unimportant? When would I have this opportunity again, to see a person's devotion and care for animals?

I watched and waited. The Rescuer tried the tuna again as bait, but these two kittens were more, well, kittenish. They were much harder to catch. One finally gravitated toward the plate of tuna and allowed the man to grab it and to join the first kitten in its box. But the last one, either too smart or too frightened to approach the tuna, kept running away from the Rescuer.

By my standing at one end and the Rescuer at the other, we gradually moved closer to the last kitten, and he was able to grab it. The last of the three kittens was now safely ensconced in the box. The Rescuer poked holes along the sides, turned on the a/c and gathered his tools. We exchanged phone numbers, in case I should spy another kitten (or want to adopt one of "my" kittens) and - with cold drink in hand - he went on his way.

The Rescuer became, once again, an exterminator. I gathered up the plates of tuna and milk, looked wistfully around and went into the house.