I found her on a Sunday last month when I heard my dogs raising holy hell in the far corner of the back yard. Kali the rat terrier was sounding off with her special "I've got something cornered but I can't get to it" yelp, Bella Donna was woofing as only a huge pit/spitz can woof, and my little geriatric mutt Scampi was channeling his inner beagle.
I ran down the decks, across the yard, and found a kitten fearlessly holding her ground against three dogs, her back up to the fence, down between the rubeckia and the asters. I swooped up the ratter and tucked her under one arm, grabbed a handful of scruff on the pit, and managed to woman-handle both of them on a reverse course back into the house. I got them locked inside and went back to the flower bed where Scampi was still yodeling. I put out a hand, and she walked toward me despite the racket that Scampi was still making.
I first thought she was about 10 or 12 weeks old; she had none of that "owlish" look that very young kittens have, but she was still a featherweight. We got her to the vet the following Monday where the good doctor determined she was closer to 20 to 22 weeks old, and breaking the scale at a whopping four pounds. We were going to wait until she reached five pounds before spaying her, but we were in a race between her target weight and her first heat - so she was spayed this past Thursday, weighing in at four point seven pounds.
She's a somber little thing. She loves to play, yet she has the dignity of a full-grown cat. We have no idea how long she was on her own out here in the country after some despicable human dumped her and drove off, but it wiped out the goofiness one would expect in a feline of her age. Although ours isn't the perfect home for her, it will be a loving home. I've grown quite fond of her!