Milk bone

A few weeks ago a small black and white kitten showed up on the front porch. It was very young, teeth weren't in all the way. Of course we let it stay. I was camping but the people that were at home started feeding the little thing. Kitty couldn't chew the dry cat food so one of the men at the house was soaking the food in milk before he put out for 'poor little cat'.

I came home from camping and saw 'poor little kitty' and thought it'd be nice to add another animal to the collection. 'Poor little kitty' needed a name. I finally liked Scampers. So Scampers he became.


One afternoon there were a bunch of people here and we were hanging out around the pool and the yard. No one was really paying any attention to the kitten. I was walking between the house and the pool and heard the dogs (great danes) barking very happily. I looked and my husband was yelling and trying to get into the the dog lot. He was yelling, "NO!! Stop!! Leave it alone!" I realized that the kitten had wandering into the dog lot. Hubby steps out of the gate and hands me this tiny little limp kitten and says, "I tried to stop them. They wanted to play with him. They didn't mean to hurt it." I took the kitten. It was still breathing. Poor thing had very labored breaths. I tried to check to make sure there were any broken ribs, or back bone. Since the kitten was so limp I was afraid its back was broken.

My grand daughter was watching. I made a bed in a box and put the kitten into a soft towel and laid him in the box. I put the box in the bathroom off the master bedroom and closed the door. I told my grand daughter that we would have to leave the kitten alone and see what happens. I didn't feel good about the kitten. It's breathing was so labored and it was pale. I told my grand daughter that the kitty might die during the night. I wanted her to have time to adjust to the possibility. Off and on through the evening and night I'd check on Scampers. He was still alive and his breathing wasn't labored when I went to bed. Next morning when I walked in the bathroom a small fluffy little kitty attacked my foot. Sometime during the night he just a well.

A couple days later another little kitten shows up. All black, a little girl. Well the issue of names came up again. My husband speaks up, "I wanted to call the black and white cat 'Milk bone'. It just seemed to fit." Well we did a little switch. The black kitten is Scampers and the dog toy is now known as 'Milk bone'.