Slippers was 2 weeks old when my husband found him in the belly pan of a trash compactor. He and his three siblings were too young to be fostered or cared for at the Humane Society, so we set up a kitten nursey in our spare bathroom. I worked from home and set overnight alarms so we could feed the kittens at least every four hours. My advice to those considering a kitten nursery: never wear yoga pants when you open the door to a roomful of tiny hungry kittens that have somehow developed adult-sized claws.
Slippers was the first of the bunch to learn to use the litter box and the first to negotiate the stairs. I wasn't too keen on getting another cat - we already had two aging kitties - but my husband convinced me. We sent the kittens to a foster once they were big enough and then visited the Humane Society when they were up for adoption. Slippers instantly recognized us and was so glad to go home!
He's now a cherished family member, whose latest exploit is gracing a chapter of my book, Nature at Your Door, in his Birdsbesafe collar.
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