We Will Call Him Batman: Taking Care of a Feral Kitten

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“He looks like Batman,” Geoff said.

He actually looks more like a bat.

So we named him Batman, though secretly I want to call him Sherman Hemsley. As a Twitter friend pointed out, that name is currently available.

Sher-batman is 6 weeks old.

He is the son of one of the feral kittens we caught to get fixed.

Some of you may recall that last week I asked what is the best way to go about fixin’ strays.

We ended up catching 4  who are currently at the Humane Society recovering, but we feel guilty for disrupting the kitty commune.

The ones that were left stare at us with disdain or run off in a panic.

“Those are the mean people that trap us!” they say. “Beware!”

Geoff and I (particularly Geoff who has done more work) feel very sad, but we know it’s the right thing. The cats need fixing.

We are the faceless adults in every animal Disney flick.

But that leaves 7 kittens without a mother this week.

We confirmed that they’re at an age where they can survive without their mother’s milk, but that doesn’t mean their emotional attachment has passed.

The neighbor scooped up Sher-batman yesterday and gave him to us in hopes of domesticating him while his mother is gone.  We will not be keeping Sher-batman, but plan on giving him to an excited friend.

Last night, Sher-batman cried for his mother. He cried from the water being rubbed on him. He cried when we pried fleas from his body.

When we patted him with a washcloth, it came back reddish brown.

Hundreds of fleas on a one pound cat can wreak a lot of havoc.

It took us two hours to bath and comb for fleas. He fought and he screamed and halfway through he gave in, limp in our hands. He stared at us with half-closed eyes that said, “Whatever you’re doing to me, I surrender.”

By the time we picked every flea we could find of his paper-thin skin, we held him close. He fell asleep on our chests, exhausted, but ok. No more water, no more biting and no more sitting in the sweltering sun.

But he doesn’t have his momma, and for that we feel terrible. We woke up every hour debating whether or not we should put him back into the wild.

He has no worms and no ailments, Geoff and his sweet mother, Cindy, confirmed yesterday at the vet.

Is putting him back out with his mother worth the hundreds of fleas, worms and short life expectancy that he will face?

Is it up to us to decide?

Right now I have a kitten the size of my palm sitting next to me. He’s dreaming. I can only imagine what of…