We've called her Pearl now for forty-eight hours.
She was hanging around on our stairs on Sunday night as we headed out for a bite to eat at one of our favorite restaurants after a day of intense furniture-moving. As soon as I stepped outside, I noticed her making friends with one of the other condo residents.
"Is that your cat?" I inquired politely.
"No," was the answer. The man had noticed her hanging around earlier that day, and had no idea to whom she belonged.
It was then that I noticed just how thin she was, and the slash on her right ear that looked perilously close to being infected.
Sabs and I sat on the hood of the car and watched her for a few minutes, debating whether or not to call the humane society, the vet, or simply to grab the cat carrier and bring her upstairs for a square meal.
We went for the latter.
I'm very glad we did.
Pearl, is perhaps one of the sweetest little cats it has ever been my pleasure to meet. She rubbed up against my ankles as soon as I let her out of the carrier and later on -- after I'd put her back in while we were out and she'd managed to spill water all over herself -- she curled up in my lap while I toweled her dry without a single complaint.
She has an odd little meow and she isn't very happy about the other cats that she can see when I open the door, but other than that, she's just about the most adorable kitty I've ever seen. Pure, snowy white, despite at least a month alone outside, from nose to tail with a pale grey splotch on her left ear. Green eyes with a topaz-colored outer circle are tip-tilted in her small and sharply pointed face, very elfin. Even though she is terribly thin right now -- weighing in at 4.8 pounds and aged about 8 months - she has a dainty regal quality about her to rival my own darling Sasha.
It's no wonder Sabs took to calling her Pearl. I'd been calling her simply "little bit" in an effort not to get too attached.
I'm failing miserably.
I know we can't keep her - four cats is plenty, really all we can handle, but my heart keeps coming up with "buts."
I have a few friends and acquaintances who might be interested in taking her, but nothing definite yet. In the meantime, we're just going to do our best to nurse the poor dear back to health.
She deserves a good home, where she will be loved and have affection lavished on her, after what must have been a terribly difficult ordeal.
With that element finally in place, the rest of the module I've been writing should flow fairly smoothly, at last.
The demo is next week and I have no reason to believe that my portion won't be ready. It's a dubious relief though, because there are so many other pieces upon which the success of this project is dependent. Some of them completely out of our control.
We keep meaning to have lunch together more often, 'cause we always have good conversations, but then she loses my phone number and I forget to call. So these get-togethers tend to happen at month-long intervals instead of every few days.