Prince William the Conqueror of all human hearts came to us on a Tuesday – muddy, wounded and starving. He is a lovely marmalade tabby, marred only by cuts and scrapes and an ugly wound that has peeled the skin under his chin from the bone an muscle of his jaw.

I am a teacher. I have a mortgage, car payments, and a student loan that (to me) looms as large as the national debt. I’ve always taken in strays-it keeps me busy, and the love these little quadrupeds give in return more than pays for their keep. But this was a bad budget month, and my last veterinary bill had been a doozy. I knew that I could not afford to take little Willie to the same vet I had been patronizing.

Shortly after lunch on Friday, I found time to do a little phone shopping. A co-worker had recommended a local pet hospital in a small town. She said they were good, and not too expensive. After a brief conversation, I made an appointment for 4:15, printed off the website map, and went back to work.

After work, I dashed home, loaded William into a carrier, and drove quickly toward my hoped for destination. Forty-five minutes AFTER the appointment time, I stopped and asked for directions. A kindly local matron explained to me that I had driven in completely the WRONG direction. She loaned to me her cell phone, and I called the vet and blushingly made a new appointment for 9:00 the following morning.

At 8:00 am the following morning, my room-mate and I loaded William into his carrier again. This time I was armed with driving directions from mapquest and a backup map. We managed to make it to the small town by 8:30, and after only one stop for added directions, arrived at the pet hospital. I was pleasantly impressed with the building. It was pleasantly clean, but not ostentatious. A sign on the wall by the front door read, “Unattended children will receive a free kitten.”

For years, I worked in a public library. Solitary children were frequently a problem. Kids love small animals, and will bring them home. Message to parents: keep an eye on your kids if you don’t want surprises. I had to chuckle quietly to myself.

William was desperate to be out of the carrier. Afraid that he might further injure himself on the bars, we let him out. He promptly set out on a tour of inspection. When the nurse opened the door to the examining room, he strolled in as if he owned the place. Placed on the examining table, he paced it as if it were the ramp for a fashion show, and he was the star model.

Strutting his stuff.

Shortly, the vet came in. She was a personable young woman with slender gentle hands. She examined William, and explained that they usually had a pretty good success rate with this type of surgery. She called it “gloving”. But she also explained that there isn’t a lot on a kitten’s jaw to tack the skin to. William had some infection, had ear-mites, and needed his kitten shots. She asked the office to work up an estimate for the cost of the surgery.

William got his shots. Then he sized up the distance from the examining table to the sink. We all watched as he squared off, gave a little rump wiggle, and leaped to a skidding halt right beside the treats jar!

The vet gave Willie a doggie treat because she didn’t have any kitty treats. Will gnawed at it a bit, and we tucked him into his carrier with his treasure. Inside, he batted his new possession around like a cat toy.

The news at the check-out was good. The shots and exam came to $69.50; his surgery would be around $112.00, and they would be able to schedule it for the day before my next pay-day! William would get his operation. Better yet, I had found a good, affordable veterinary service for my household.

Kitten Foundling

Foundling Kitten 3