“Mew. Mew.” What’s that? I heard a small noise come from up the hill. It sounded like a . . . a . . . “STTOOOPP!!!” I dropped my bike. My parents stopped biking and looked around. “Do you see that? Right there! In the hill! In that bush!” I scream-whispered.
My mom came over. “Zivia! What is i—oh my!” The little kitten crawled into view. It was no pet cat. It was scrawny and sad. I knew that kitten needed help. Its eyes were scratched like it was in a fight, and tufts of fur were missing. Then, before anyone could stop me, I started climbing the hill.
As I climbed, stickers and vines clawed at my legs. The kitten bolted when it sensed me. I, of course, chased after it. My hands decided on their own to grab it. I nestled it in my shirt. I saw my mom was opening the lunch box to put the kitten inside (I later found out that my father was against the entire thing). We started walking down the hill. Step. Step. Step. The kitten struggled. Then suddenly, without any warning it opened those tiny jaws and chomped down . . . on my finger!
Some hours later I was inside Abington Hospital. The doctor told me I would be getting rabies shots.
“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!!! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! PLEASE, NOOOOOO!”
My mom tried to calm me down. “It’s okay, Zivia, everything will be . . .”
“NOOOOOO, IT WON’T!” While we waited, there was a lot of crying and pleading. I was ready to disappear. The suspense was building a skyscraper!
A million years (a.k.a. five hours) later, they brought me into a small room. I sat down. Two nurses came over with two needles. After that, I really can’t explain what happened because I really don’t want to think about it. I can say—those shots hurt like the end of the world! I got four that day. A week later I got another. Next week, another, and another! Every week until I had ten: five in my thighs and five in my arms. They were really, really, really (times a million) painful!
So, dear reader, never pick up a wild cat without a suit of armor. But even though it was a very painful experience, I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving that kitten. That’s just who I am. But maybe next time, I will use the lunchbox to catch the kitten instead of my hands.