For the second time in a few years, we have found and "rescued" a stray cat from the wilds of Grevillea Ave. This time, instead of finding a kitten stuck inside of some luggage, we found this poor, little fella hanging out in the garage roaming free. Originally, our apartment manager, Alvin, had found him inside of a shoebox. Left alone and unable to escape due to an oil can being placed on the lid, Toby (not sure where I got this name from) was skinny and starving, mewing for someone or something to come get him. Unlike the previously found kitten, Toby was quite curious and friendly, very willing to hang out with people and he made himself quite at home in our apartment. Unfortunately, since I'm allergic and pets are not allowed in our apartment, we're not able to keep him. Anyone out there want a kitten?
In any case, what makes me feel awful is how we found him in the first place. At least in the first case, I can surmise that the kitten got curious enough to find himself stuck in a piece of baggage, but in this case, it's apparent that someone placed Toby in the shoebox to keep him there for themselves. Most likely, it was one of the kids living in our neighbor's apartments wishing for a pet, but I can't assume that right away. The proper thing to do, I guess, would be to give up Toby to animal control. My conscience wouldn't let me do that, so we placed him in cat Paradise for the time being. For now, I know that he'll be happy and healthy until he can find a suitable adoptive home. More details as this story develops.
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