Yesterday morning when I was out with the dogs I discovered that the stray cat that I’ve been seeing in and out of my garage had again taken up residence inside. It looked awful. She (or he, I’m not really sure) had muddy paws and a muddy face, and she looked more like a furry bag of bones than ever. I fed her and gave her a blanket before I headed to work, noting how the once friendly little creature looked listless and sick.

I tried to put her out of my mind. It’s not that I don’t like cats. I’m a dog person, no question, but cats are fine. Fine, that is, when they’re at least ten yards away from me, as I’m deathly allergic. Pricey medicine doesn’t even help. And while my heart breaks for the stray, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I didn’t want her to go to a shelter to be euthanized, and I hadn’t had any luck finding someone who wanted her, so I just kept feeding her in the hopes that she would find her way home.

The thought of that poor little thing out in the bitter cold finally broke me at about seven last night, and I went to the store to get supplies to help her. When I arrived back home I searched the garage, guided only by her pitiful mewling. I couldn’t make it to the light switch because of all of the cars and car parts stored there, and I apparently broke my last flashlight last week when I used it to break the ice around my door seal to get my car door open, so I opened my cell phone, hoping the tiny blue light would help me find her.

Find her I did, huddled and motionless on the garage floor, her constant stream of meowing the only real sign of life. I couldn’t get her to look at me, I couldn’t get her to move, and then I finally started to panic. I grabbed a wool blanket that I had warmed up in the dryer, cursing myself that I don’t have things like heating pads and electric blankets, plucked her off of the garage floor, wrapped her up, and brought her in. Ignoring the curious dogs I took her to the basement, the only area in the house that is dog safe, and tried to warm the poor thing up.

It was then that I started to ponder the thought of one of my dogs getting loose and lost (not too far-fetched, really, if you know anything about beagles) and some dumb ass person just letting them starve and freeze to death without trying to help it or find it’s home. That went well, as you can imagine, and left me calling my friend Jessica with gulping and unattractive sobbing noises to tell her what a heartless and irresponsible cat-killer I am. After I pulled myself together, I called the emergency vet for advice (as well as to ensure that any stray cat diseases that thing was carrying couldn’t infect my dogs), and continued to try to warm her up.

I checked on her at various points in the evening, noting that she hasn’t eaten a thing and she still looks kind of out of it. Her eyes aren’t focusing, she looks a little congested (maybe the reason why she isn’t eating?), and she isn’t moving around much. I can’t tell if she looks sick or absolutely terrified. I heard her mewling throughout the night (amazingly my dogs managed to keep a lid on it), and when I checked on her this morning I see that she is now huddled in the creepy crawlspace next to the stairs, I can’t get to her (because I’m too afraid to go in there), and she still hasn’t eaten.

So while I’ve now accepted that I’m a crappy person, I’m just hoping that she/he/whatever can hold on until Monday as that is probably the earliest I will be able to get her to a vet.

Cross your fingers, will ya?