Friday we had a "cold front" (ha!) of mid 90's weather, which felt nearly brisk compared to the triple digits of earlier days. We packed up trail mix and pbjs, treasure bags and massive amounts of water and left the house at 8am with the intention of spending most of the day on hiking trails in nearby, hilly Benbrook.
After a mile or so in, on the shoulder of a little country road, we heard mewling and turned to see a pitiful teeny cat face pleading to us from under a bush inside of a chip bag. AWWW. She came to us as soon as we called and the hike was over. Jeff ran to get the car and we brought home a homely, mitey, wormy, starving and lonely kitten with an upper respiratory infection.
Jeff went back, later in the day, to the spot where we found her and combed the area to make sure we didn't leave behind siblings or separate her from mama, but nay. She was all alone. We figure a litter was dumped and the rest were carried off by birds of prey and such. As much as I detest litterbugs, her little Lay's bag may have saved her little life.
I guess she's about four weeks old. We've fixed her up with supplies squirreled from my vet tech days and plenty of good meals and some of my breastmilk freezer stash. She has shattered our intentions of finding her a good home. She's enraptured all of us. Just look at her Groucho Marxsque 'stash!