Kitten

Maybe it was that same day, maybe it was a day or so later. I don't know. Time doesn't matter so much, here. Anyway, I was walking home, listening to the birds cry. I've mentioned the birds here, before. They are amazing. There are birds that look like crows, only maybe twice as large with white breasts. There are big black birds with plumage that turns into a rainbow when the light bounces just so, kind of like an oil spill over the midnight ocean. There are birds I think might be vultures, and others that look like herons, others that look like turkeys, and some that look like cranes. And of course, there are the massive man-sized birds that I can't name. I'll have to learn what they are, before I leave.

Anyway, I pay a lot of attention to their music because it is so different from what I hear at home. And as I was walking back to the hotel that particular night, the birds were really active. One in particular seemed insistant and close by. I finally realized it must be right next to my foot, so I looked down to see what kind of bird it was.

Turns out, it was the kind of bird that is a cat. A kitten, to be precise. Small little lonely thing, all black and brown patches with big, bright blue eyes. It must have been hungry, because it kept peeping these little "meep! meep!" sounds, and it was desperately trying to reach me. That's what I'd mistaken for bird song; the creature was still too small to sound like an actual cat. I was separated from the kitten by a trench about two feet wide, and the little thing was getting ready to pounce across just to snuggle up to me. There was no way it would have made the leap, so I stepped over to it, instead. It kept mewing and padded over to my legs. I didn't know what to do. The kitten was adorable, but a thousand red flags went off in my head at once. I'm allergic to cats. Having an allergy attack here would be bad. Christine says people with cat allergies don't react to kittens, but I've never tested that theory before. And it probably had fleas. It definitely had ear mites and mange. But it was still the cutest thing in the world. Couldn't I pick it up and take it to the vet? Its eyes were bright blue; I've never seen blue eyes on a cat like that. Maybe the color of kittens' eyes change as they age. This was certainly a tiny creature; it could fit into my palm. Maybe it had just opened its eyes.

But where was its mother? I looked around and couldn't see anything. I had no way of knowing whose house it came from, or where its litter was. I had nothing to feed it with, and no way of knowing what to feed a kitten. And are there vetrinarians in Uganda? There must be, because people rely so much on their cattle. All the same, though, I don't know any. And even if there are vets, is there medicine? For a kitten?

The cat kept approaching me, and I lowered my computer case so it would have something other than me to caress. I knew if I touched it once, I was a goner. Oh, not like I'd die or anything (Mom told me not to touch any animals; rabies is a problem in Uganda and I'm not vaccinated!), but if I touched the kitten I would for sure pick it up, cradle it like it wanted to be cradled, and take it home. I'd probably feed it and let it get its fleas all over my hotel room, and wind up killing it because I don't know how to take care of such a young cat. It would probably be better off with its own mother. But how to help it find its mother? I didn't even know how to scoop it up so I could bring it to the homes in the area. Someone would have claimed it, right?

As I'm thinking all of these things, the cat saunters over to my computer case and starts rubbing all over it, reaching up and stretching out its little claws to hook into the bag, trying to climb up toward my face. It was so adorable, I bent over and almost started petting it with a finger. Almost. Then I realized -- what am I doing? I can't take care of a cat! I don't know how. And what am I going to do, take it to Gulu with me? Import it back to the United States? There is a pet store not far from where I'm staying, but the only time I looked in, all I could see was a desk and bare walls. I think it's a place you order animals to be bred for you; it's definitely not PetSmart.

So I let logic take over. I straightened up, and walked away from the kitten. "Mew!" went the little voice behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see this tiny, indignant face. It was as if the cat were trying to rationalize how, with all that cuteness, I could possibly leave it behind.

"I'm sorry, kitten," I said. "I can't take care of you." And I walked away. Not the easiest thing I've ever done. I hope it found its home.