What in the World Happened to the Ginger Kitten?
Read Time:2 Minute, 24 Second
The urgent sound of multiple barks pierced the stillness of the night, an unsettling deviation from their customary sounds of squirrel greeting or neighborhood curiosity. Swathed in a dark cloak, the world outside lay obscure under the barely present new moon. Guided by the insistent echoes of Whiskey, Tango, and Piper, I ventured into the night with only the thin beam of my flashlight for company.
My backyard, a labyrinth of untamed foliage spanning a full acre, and surrounded by a 6-foot privacy fence, was a sanctuary for the neighborhood’s wild critters. As I navigated the trees and tall grass, the contrasting barks, as distinct as fingerprints, guided me. Tracing their symphony of barks, I discovered them huddled ominously around a tiny form.
Caught in the bright glare of my flashlight, the small figure turned out to be a kitten. Yes. A ginger kitten in a fully fenced yard patrolled by three dogs. How could this be? While trying to process the tiny form before me, Whiskey, my imposing 80-pound Malinois, was already toying with the terrified creature, his jaw a vicious pendulum. My heart pounded in tandem with the kitten’s tiny flutters as I managed to pry it from Axel’s mouth, rescuing it from becoming a casualty of the night.
In the sanctity of a spare room that Whiskey believed was haunted by a ghostly presence, I placed the ginger kitten in a box with a makeshift bed of torn newspaper and forgotten stuffed animals. The soft, soothing strains of Alexa’s melody drifted through the room as I left the kitten with its dinner; an accidental can of cat food from years past, a bowl of fresh water, and those stuffed animals.
By morning, after a night punctuated by frenzied canine pursuits and relentless barks, I walked up the stairs to the ‘ghost room’ room only to find the kitten had inexplicably vanished. Not a trace remained. There was no place to hide, no place to run. The door had been closed tight. The door to the closet was ajar, as it was most days. Despite a thorough search assisted by my eager canine crew, the kitten remained elusive, tucked away in the realm of the unseen.
Strangely, that closet was the very one that had previously played host to Whiskey’s early-morning ghost hunts. My house was a carnival of mysteries, each question looming larger than the one preceding it. No doors or windows offered an escape, yet the kitten was gone. It had evaporated into thin air, leaving only a cryptic riddle. It was a vanishing act as befuddling as a whisper in the wind.
I’ve never found the kitten and have no explanation for its disappearance. Friends tell me it was a ghost that took it. I find that hard to believe. I don’t even believe in ghosts…do I?
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He’s living at my house with his little sister. AYUP I think we have a cat sanctuary going on here. Ty found these guys at a fire and brought them here for me to take care of till they got a little better. That was 4 months ago.