I found it an hour ago, at midnight, shivering behind my dad's rosebushes under my window. To be accurate, Andydog found it, but it was probably Andy's fault it was shivering in the first place. Damned dog was growling so I went out to check and there it was: scraggly, wet and hissing at my dog.
It's very small-- the size of a quarterpounder with cheese or a pocket camera case-- very ragged, the color of a Meiji bar that's been unwrapped and left too long under a lamp on the bedside table: dark chocolate, mottled all over with a light, almost golden, brown. It has blue eyes.
It's almost asleep in a box under my desk, except it keeps looking up and answering 'mewmewgurglegarblegeep' everytime I say something. Andy is watching it suspiciously, while Blake the cat is watching Andy even more suspiciously; I think she remembers that Andydoggy has one case of accidental and justifiable kittenslaughter hidden away in his juvenile records.
I wonder what to name it and how to clean it up-- it seems too small for a bath, but the matted parts of its fur are annoying me.
Hmm. I just remembered something. I don't even like cats.
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