She's upstairs in my studio, the only room with a door. She has water, fancy wet food, dry food and a fluffy bed with a heating pad under it on low. And a brand new litter box. I sat with her mournful self and she has been declawed. ARRRRRRGGGGG. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe she got away from her person who is frantically looking for her. And her person keeps her indoors. And her person adopted her after some ninny declawed her.
Anyway, she's terribly skinny and I'm at a loss now. I can't have another cat. I can't. I'll let her wait a bit and recover on her heated bed. Then I'll find a no-kill shelter to take her to.
The other cats are all looking at me. As if they didn't end up with me for the same reason. They're all fat and glossy. And frisky. And they get catnip. And they sleep on my bed. What's their problem???