Yesterday I was walking to Helen's dorm from my apartment when I heard a tiny, constant meowing coming from inside the fence surrounding the dorms. I couldn't see where it was; the grass is so overgrown there. I hurried into the complex and around the other side. Unfortunately, there are two fences separating the dorms from the big, bad world, and between them there is a kind of jungle-like no man's land. It was from this unreachable place whence came the ever insistent cries.
My maternal instict also being somewhat overgrown, I started calling to the kitten hiding somewhere in the brush. I called to it for fifteen minutes, and just as I had decided to risk being arrested by climbing over the fence, I saw the tall grass rustle a few meters from the fence. I started calling again, and the rustling moved towards me. I kept calling until a tiny black and white face appeared through the weeds, struggling to climb over a downed telephone pole blocking its path. It was then that I noticed the poor creature's eyes were either missing or permanently shut with a nasty-looking ooze, and it was feeling its way towards me by my voice alone.
It had a hard time with the telephone pole, and stood there crying and trying to get its bearings for a few minutes, then finally took the plunge and slid down the side. I kept calling it and it walked all the way through the remaining underbrush until it found me on the other side of the fence.
So I was basically stuck. Having culled an unfortunate, blind, ridiculously tiny kitten from its lonely misery, I simply had to take responsibility for it. Ksenia, Helen, Ariel and I managed to track down an emergency vet, who promptly cleaned out its eyes--which work fine, but were horribly infected--dewormed and defleaed it, and sent us home with two weeks worth of antibiotics. We couldn't leave it there, as with Israel's cat problem, they have to put down kittens that young that have been abandoned.
So, naturally, we will take care of it. We've already found someone who wants to adopt it, but first it has to be healed and healthy, as she works all the time and can't feed it every three hours. So little Pupik (Hebrew for belly-button, a kind of backwards nickname, as I called him Puppy and thought he deserved a real name) will be with us for two or three weeks. He is more than precious. Three weeks old, and smaller than my hand. Pictures forthcoming.