The kitten was ravenous. At first I didn’t feed her much because I thought she had been a starving stray and I did’t want to kill her by overfeeding. Then I budgeted a can and a half of kitten food a day for her. Within two days she needed two. Then two and a half, and then that wasn’t even enough. I learned that when she meowed and nibbled on my figers, she was hungry. She grew noticably in the span of days. The feel of her bones became less sharp.

After she peed on my futon, I went out to buy better cat litter. She was a little kitten so maybe the big, chunky biodegrable litter was too much for her. I bought fine clay litter and a bigger litter box with a top. If she wanted to hide all the time, maybe it was best to get a covered litter box so she wouldn’t feel exposed. Current cost of kitten, around ¥8,000. After the futon accident, I didn’t trust her. I chucked her in the new litter box every few hours and she used it.

One of my favorite memories of her is from the night after she peed on the spare futon. I was sleeping in my normal futon on my bed above the fort, which is too high for her to get to. She was keeping me awake anyway, by stalking around the room all night. I woke up to her meowing, flipped over onto my stomach, and peered down to the floor. She was sitting on her haunches in that classic traingular cat pose staring up at me. She looked so pleased with herself for getting my attention.

Two signs of a healthy kitten are purring and playing. She started purring even before she got over her cold. I loved having her sit on my lap and purr while I was at the computer. When she started feeling healthy enough to play this became difficult. She would attack the mouse arrow on the screen. The first time I ever saw her play was a great relief for me. She was hiding behind the curtains and started pushing them away from her. She loved playing with the curtains because it afforded her a way to hide while she had fun. Once, she got her paw twisted up in them and cried frantically until I came and saved her. I’m not sure she was the brightest cat I’ve ever had.

The necessity of giving her up was the most difficult thing for me. My friends said I was doing the right thing by looking for a new owner. They said I was doing the responsible thing, the best thing for the kitten. I didn’t know where I was going to go next and I didn’t want the added restraint of accomodating a cat. Is that responsibility or taking the easy way out?

When I first found her, I would have willingly dropped her off at an animal shelter (should they happen to exist in Japan) as soon as she was healthy, considering my good deed done. But the longer I kept her, the fewer people I was willing to let her go to.

But it’s not like people were really eager to begin with. It costs around $800 to buy a kitten at a pet store. With prices like that, you’d think the Japanese would be very happy to adopt a stray. For some reason, it’s really difficult. And this kitten was a hard sell.

R was talking to a mutual friend on the phone. “ave you seen this kitten? It’s a completely worthless creature, but it’s really cute.”

For the first three days, it wouldn’t eat or drink without prompting. I wasn’t sure I could trust it to use the litter box on its own and then there was that hiding problem.

At least it wasn’t feral. It really liked people. But it was afraid of the world. She slunk low to the ground when in open spaces. At first, she always had to be hiding in the daytime. Then when she did come out, she would only come out when I was around and never farther away than a few feet of me. A loud noise would send her scrambling. I think once she tried to hide in my pant leg.

She was only allowed in the main room for fear she would hide under the washing machine again. The one time I did let her into the hallway, sure enough, she made a dash under the washing machine. I had to perform the same kitten extraction procedure as before, this time without R. One hand tilting the machine back, the other fishing around underneath. And this time, she climbed up into the cavity where the motor was housed.

Who wants a kitten who pees on futons and hides in your machinery, never to come out on its own? I got really mad at her sometimes. I reminded myself that she was just a little kid. If one of my first graders was taken from his or her mother and dropped in cold ditch for hours, I bet there’d be some trauma. You couldn’t expect a child to eat normally, drink normally, and not wet the bed after that. And I bet there’d be some hiding, too. A kitten with PTSD. Patience.

Selling point: she’s really cute.

My favorite thing about her was her little ears. Two tiny brown fuzzy triangles. Her cheeks were so fluffy and puffy she looked crosseyed sometimes.

I really wanted the couple who catsat her for me to take her. I talked to one member of the couple on Wednesday to give him an update on her health and activities. He told me they were still thinking about adopting Ippiki. One day they wanted three cats and they were going to name them Ippiki, Nippiki, and Sanpiki. Japanese for first little beastie, second little beastie, and third little beastie.

On the internet with R, I told him that my friends had named the cat Ippiki. “Now that just makes me angry,” said Russ. “It’s like meeting a man named Oswald. They shoudn’t be allowed to name it, if they aren’t going to keep it. I can come up with a good name for a kitten. General CuddlePuff.”

A friend nearby had said he might want a kitten. He’s on a two year contract at Christian school near my apartment. I had him over on Tuesday night to see her. Another favorite memory of the kitten is this guy, spindly and 6’4”, peering at her. Her entire round kitten body fit in both his outstretched hands. Under the protective watch of a human, she was placid in the air. I could see the backs of her tiny triangular ears.

I told hims that he was going to be sad, lonely, and cold for the two years he was in Japan if he didn’t have a cat. It’s true that I was less of all of these without her. She was someone to come home to. She made me feel less isolated.

But in the end, none of them felt like they could keep the kitten.

R gave me the email of an English teacher who lived in a city about an hour and a half away. She and her husband had one cat and they liked finding homes for animals. When I emailed on Thursday she told me she’d be willing to take the kitten until they could find a permanent home.

I really didn’t want to just give up my pretty little kitten to another temporary place. She was already terrified as it was. Did I want to move her into more instability? But I couldn’t take it anymore. The longer she was with me the more painful it would be to let her go. I’d miss her more and more and I’d feel more guilty for not keeping her. I couldn’t find her a good loving home. The anxiety of not knowing her fate was plaguing me every moment.

Just take the kitten to my friends, R told me. “There’s a nonzero chance that they’ll keep her. Are you familiar with relativity?”

I agreed, but I felt coldhearted.

I had off that Monday. I gave myself a few more days with CuddlePuff. I couldn’t talk about letting her go. It choked me up. I knew I would be devastated. I thought of my desloate apartment without her. How coming home without the kitten would feel.

She protested the box but once she was inside the car, she settled down. She was silent the entire way there. It was a surprise each time I remembered she was there.

A cold rainy hour and a half drive later, I arrived in Ashikaga. The lady carried the box with the kitten up. Her husband and I got the litter box and supplies.

She opened the box in the apartment “Oh! She’s really fluffy!”

She lifted out the kitten. Her 6 month old cat, came over to inspect.

It’s a known fact that when two cats first meet each other they hiss and swat each other. But the cat looked really excited and sniffed her really cloesely. Puff blinked. And that was all.

When allowed free roam she burrowed between the couple’s two futons. When we dug her out she hid behind the curtains. The older cat followed her around. Puff didn’t seem to mind.

I sat and talked with the couple for a while. They wanted to know about all her habits and fears.

When I left, I didn’t feel so bad. There was a sense of loss, but no guilt. The couple made me believe that they really cared and that they were as invested in her welfare as I was. And if she really got along with the other cat, maybe they’d keep her.

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