It had been a long, exhausting day and as I packed up the meeting room at the Hilton my mind had entered its blank, “the-day-is-over” mode. As I left the hotel I was grateful the weekend’s meeting had been local so I did not have to deal with heading to the airport.
My plans for the evening included pulling on my rattiest pair of sweat pants, pouring a Diet Coke and taking a nap under the ceiling fan with my dog at my side and my cat on my lap. Since Ryan had dinner plans I had the house to myself for the evening and I felt no guilt that I was kind of glad to be alone for a couple of hours.
On the way to my car I heard a weak cry coming from the bushes that bordered the parking lot. “That almost sounds like a kitten,” I thought. As I got in my car I heard it again, louder this time; now I had to investigate.
It didn’t take long. Completely hidden in a bed of ferns I found the tiniest kitten I had ever seen, all alone and crying softly. Wondering, I looked around for a mama cat or another kitten but there were no others I could see — or hear. I picked the kitten up and he cried louder. I looked in his mouth and saw that he was so young he had no teeth yet; a quick search on my smart phone revealed that that meant he was less than three weeks old.
I was perplexed; the kitten was obviously alone, yet he was fat and sleek so I wondered how he happened to be in the fern bed. That’s when it dawned on me that in all probability someone had dumped him in the ferns — he clearly was not able to walk there– and my first thought was what kind of monster would abandon a 3-week old kitten in a hotel parking lot. Then and I know it was uncharitable, I sighed because I knew a nap was not in my immediate future.
I considered, and discarded, the thought of taking him home. For one thing, we already have 2 rescue pets and adopting another was not in my plans. More importantly, I knew that a kitten this young would need to be bottle fed – and neither I nor my partner had the time right now to give him the attention that he needed.
Feeling vaguely guilty, I did another search on my cell phone and learned that the Humane Society was only a mile away and that they were open till 7:00; I looked at my watch it was 6:15; I had time to get there before they closed. With apologies to the kitten , I put him on my lap and headed to the Humane Society. “They’ll take better care of you than I can,” I told him . He mewed softly, whether in appreciation or protest I did not know, but by the time we got to the Humane Society he had stopped crying and was asleep on my lap.
The two young girls at the Admissions Desk thought the kitty was cute. “But we can’t take him,” one said matter-of-factly . “He’s too young.” I just looked at her and she glanced at her colleague. “He’s not even weaned,” she explained.
Her colleague took over: “For an older pet we can just stick it in a cage with some food and water,” she said. “But a kitten this young needs round-the clock care.”
I was not understanding. “But you’re the Humane Society,” I said. “Don’t you have any nursing cats that could foster him?” Both girls shook their heads violently. “And there’s not a single staff member here or volunteer who can foster this kitten?” They shook their heads as one.
I persisted: “What about a shelter?”
“Shelters don’t take admissions on weekends,” said the first girl and I suddenly knew how this would end. I gave it one last shot: “I don’t have the time or the skill to foster this kitten,” I said. The girls just looked at me. “So, any suggestions?” I asked.
They looked at each other. “We close in 20 minutes,” said the second girl. “But I guess you can leave him here.”
I had to ask. “And then what?” 
They shrugged in unison. “We’ll have to put him down,” said the first girl so casually that I wanted to slap her. She reached for my cat but I pulled him close. “We close at 7,” she repeated.
“You’re going to put him down now?” I asked and they both shrugged. The kitten began to rub his face in my beard and purr.
“I thought this is the Humane Society?” I said and my poor orphaned kitty and I turned to leave.
“Would you like to make a donation?” asked the first girl.
