Meet our newest family member. Forest is now 7 weeks old and growing into our lives at a rate only baby animals can.
That’s right. 7 weeks old. And we have had him 5 days as I write this post.
When the veterinarian first saw Forest, she had him stay in the clinic saying that it was not certain that he would even survive. He still had his baby blues and it was unclear how long he had been without his family unit.
We’ve got a fighter in this one!
Confession Time
Actually, Forest is our first cat. Ever. In our lives. For either one of us. And no, he wasn’t a planned part of our lives. He also isn’t a spontaneous desire after days of the loneliness called Corona.
No. We knew that we were not going to have a pet until… someday.
We travel. Not much, that is true. But when we do, we are gone for weeks at a time. Our goal to visit friends and family in the States each year may have not worked out this year, but it was planned. Because of this, we knew that having a pet was not high on our priority list. We love them too much to turn them into lifestyle accessories.
However, we also knew that we lived in the perfect location should we ever decide to have one. I always considered that if and when we got a pet, it would be a dog.
That is. Until a week ago last Friday.
Being Neighborly
Ten days ago, I was weeding in my yard like the responsible adult I am still trying to be when the neighbor came by walking her dog, Ivy. Christine is a lovely young woman and I enjoy having a reason to procrastinate and talking to the neighbors is good for society, right?
I found out that Ivy had found a kitten that morning and they were not sure what to do with it. No one wanted to send it to an animal shelter and, for various reasons, no one in the family could keep it. Without thinking, I said, “Well, I guess Thomas and I just adopted a cat.”
The next day, Chrissy stopped by to say, do you want to come meet the kitten?
And so our story began.
Finding Floh
When Chrissy first met Forest, she thought he was a dark tiger kitten—almost black. He was covered in mud and slime and fleas—oh the fleas. He was also undernourished and weak.
She had been out on a walk with Ivy, her boxer mix, when Ivy let Chrissy know that something was wrong. How Ivy noticed Forest is one of nature’s wonders. For Forest was not on the side of the road. He was half-way down a steep embankment above a rocky ravine. Kittens don’t just wander into that. We will never know how Forest got there.
Chrissy took the kitten to the veterinarian and was told it was not certain the kitten would survive. The kitten was judged to be 6 weeks at the most. Its eyes were still baby blue and the vet was not sure it could eat on its own. But they would take the kitten, wash it, feed it and see if it survived.
Two hours later, the call came that, contrary to what they had thought, the kitten had eaten some solid food and appeared to be waking up out of its lethargy. Did Chrissy want to keep it or should it be placed in a shelter?
People here in this neighborhood take a special view of animals, especially cats. It was clear from the first moment that this kitten was not going to go to a city shelter to become an apartment kitty. Cats need to roam free, be able to hunt, have a purpose in life. And so the kitten came home. Chrissy went to every neighbor trying to find Floh’s family or owner. No one missed him.
He was nicknamed Floh, which means Flea in German, moved into a box in the family’s conservatory, and Chrissy undertook feeding and caring for him. What can one do? Poor Floh had an awful couple of days, scratching and hurting from the fleas. To add insult to injury, he had two baths in two days.
Honestly, I think he was too miserable to really care.
They spent time with him every day. Still, there was the question as to what to do with him. As much as they wanted to keep him, there was no way that that was going to work out with two senior cats, a dog who had issues with cats and two little humans needing to be cared for, as well.
Floh Finds a Family
Sunday, the Thomases were talking in the driveway when Farmer Thomas turned to me and said, “I heard you’ve adopted a kitten.”
News to me. We had said we would talk it over, but I had thought Farmer Thomas would adopt the kitten. Later on, I told Chrissy my reservations. We were not always home and did not want to take on an animal we couldn’t care for when we were gone.
“Is that all?” she laughed. “We are moving 5 minutes away and love the kitten. Thomas will certainly also help when it comes to feeding it, and cats really don’t need much else.”
“Consider it adopting a cat with a great vacation plan.”
Tuesday, Work decided I needed to shorten my hours on a furlough plan for the next 4 weeks.
I started researching raising feral kittens and kittens under 12 weeks of age. Turns out, there is a lot more to know than to feed them. And they are younger than they appear.
Wednesday, Thomas and I picked up some infant kitten food and brought him home. I spent the next 3 hours chasing after the kitten, picking things up off the ground that were not “kitty-proof” while Thomas played with and entertained our new handful.
A handful. That was all Floh was. He fit into the palm of Thomas’ hand. But he had energy for 4 kittens. We picked him up at 7pm and he ran constantly until 11:30 pm. We put him in a box to sleep and went to bed. Exhausted.
The next day I had off work and spent it rearranging things in our house to make the great room the (amost, not quite, not really, but satisfactory) kitten containment room.
He had never been in a house before. We feared the worst. We were wrong.
Floh figured out the litter box in 10 seconds flat after it was set up. Not a single accident in this house, thank you very much. If there is? Well, that is why he is in the great room—it is all tile that is going to be replaced. Timing is everything when renovating, right?
Who can say they have a cat that cleans up his meal place? Floh would very carefully sweep up the floor after eating, even under the mat I had placed to mark his meal spot. He found it immediately and always leaves it spotless.
Instead of being fierce, he is gentle when he plays. He doesn’t ever bite down and has yet to scratch out in aggression.
A Floh by Any Other Name
Now, by all accounts, the name Floh made sense. But really now! It wasn’t his fault that he was a matted fleaball when he was found.
Today he is a beautiful kitten. He needed a new name for his new family.
I offered up a dozen options, none of which was “just right” for Thomas: Hunter, Florian (the saint of firefighters and the fire department’s CB “handle”), Krieger (fighter), Hero (in both English and German) … My Mom offered: Tiger “too ordinary here” and (Mighty) Max Chrissy’s 4-month old is named Max so a no-go. Michi, our neighbor, offered “Tom” or “Jerry” we do NOT need another Thomas in this neighborhood, just sayin’.
Thomas offered Ignaz and Seppl. Not happening.
I thought of Forest right away. He was found in the Forest, it isn’t a “normal” name and I find it pretty and unique. Thomas did too. I was certain we had named our cat. Until Thomas said on the way home from work: “But you know. No one will be able to say his name…”
And so I spent 3 days searching for a new name. Until Thomas finally looked at me and said, “We were going to call him Forest, weren’t we? Why do you want to change it?”
Forest it is.
Thomas still calls him Miezikatze or Kitty cat in German. Oh, well.
Forest’s Future
We are spending an inordinate amount of time with Forest right now. At his age, he should be amongst his siblings and family. He is much calmer when we are present.
After two days of reading up on the subject and discussing how we wanted to have our cat live in our home, we moved him up to our bedroom to sleep at night. He slept through the night and has ever since. Kicking him out, though, just might be a chore.
Forest is so young, he still only pfieps and cannot meow. He tumbles down stairs and cannot jump up onto the sofa with ease. He falls more than he runs. He is skittish and awkward and loves being pet and loved—when he is tired or when it happens “on accident”. He is curious without experience and I am afraid he will fall down the middle of the stairwell because he has no sense of depth perception as of yet. He is teething and chews everything. Except shoes. He loves shoes and hiding in Thomas’ is the best place to be. He is at his calmest when one of us is present. If we sit on the couch to cuddle, that is his sign that it is time to join us.
Some might think we are training him to be a house cat. We aren’t. We are hoping to give him the security to develop into a healthy cat.
Our goal is to return him outside when he turns 4 months old, just like his mom would do if left in his original family. Home should always be with us. Food and warmth and love await. But he should have the strength and courage to wander and roam amongst the fields and forests knowing he is at home.
