The Legend of Jilly Bean

Jilly Getting Jiggy

A week ago today, I was a little slow getting out of bed because I was still tired and sore from my weekend in the mountains. Around 7:00 AM, Mrs. Rambler came into the bedroom and announced, “Jack is stuck under your truck!” She went on to say that she could hear him crying and was afraid his collar might be caught on something.

Throwing on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and some sandals, I went to the front door and opened in to find Jack sitting on the porch railing. To say that I was confused would be an understatement.

I turned to Mrs. Rambler trying to come up with a method for checking her sanity, when all of a sudden I heard meowing coming from under my truck. Mrs. Rambler then said she caught a glimpse of a kitten running off the front porch and going toward my truck as she came out the front door. All of a sudden, the pieces were falling into place.

I determined that the kitten was sitting on top of the spare tire, which sits under the bed of the

Jilly Visits Killer

truck. Coaxing and calling produced cries from the kitten, but no movement off of the tire. So, my next move was to find the tool I needed to crank the tire down so I could get at the kitten. Keep in mind that I have AAA and haven’t changed a tire in years. I wasn’t even positive I knew how to crank the tire down. But I knew it was important that I figure it out. Being a stupid human, I kind of forgot the fact that the kitten had already gotten in and out of where it was a couple of times.

After fumbling around for about 15 minutes, I got the lug wrench from behind the driver’s seat of the truck. A fifth grader probably could have done it faster, but I didn’t have my contacts in yet, had not had my first cup of coffee of the morning, and was sore in places I forgot I had places from all the walking I did over the weekend. Lowering the tire a few inches, I was just getting ready to reach in for the kitten when I saw a blur of yellow running toward the house.

The kitten squeezed into a narrow space between the front stoop and the garage, behind a rose bush. Mrs.

Let me out! I'm innocent!

Rambler started to reach in and grab the kitten…after donning a pair of oven mitts for protection…but was getting scratched up by the rose bush. So I went into the house to get something to prune back the rose bushes. Figuring it was closer to where I needed to go if I opened the garage door, I did just that. Big mistake. It might have worked out better if I had warned Mrs. Rambler, but since I didn’t do that, when the kitten was frightened by the garage door it eluded her attempts to grab it.

Imagine if you will, two adults chasing a little kitten around the yard. It ran under the back deck, under the downspout, behind shrubs, and finally up the bank behind our house. I was sure it would continue onto the street and become road pizza, but it didn’t. It scampered back and forth under the Leland Cypress trees and holly bushes that border our property. Finally, we just plain lost sight of it.

Mrs. Rambler spent the rest of Monday walking around the neighborhood, keeping an eye out for the poor lost kitten. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that I heard the kitten’s cries again. I spotted it across the street sitting under some holly bushes, but a brat young lad of about 13 or 14 came along with his dog, and the kitten was off and running again. That sighting was brief, and attempts to relocate the kitten were futile.

"Stuffed dogs don't scare me at all!"

Tuesday morning, I was taking Maggie the Wonder Dog for her morning stroll when I heard the kitten again. This time, the cries were sounding pretty weak and came from the engine compartment of the car parked in the driveway across the street. Failing to either locate the kitten, or get an answer to my knock at the neighbor’s door, Mrs. Rambler left a note telling them where the kitten was. Seeing the car gone a little later I was sure that the kitten had probably met its end. But now the situation fell under the classification of “Not My Problem.”

Imagine my surprise early that afternoon when Mrs. Rambler came breathlessly into my home office with a big grin on her face and shaking like a leaf. Seems she took “one last walk past the house across the street” and spied the kitten sitting in the driveway. The poor thing was exhausted and didn’t really try to run away any more. It put up a feeble struggle and then let itself be carried to our house where it was deposited in the guest bathroom for safe keeping until we could arrange better accommodations. It is now in a little kennel in the living room while the other pets get acclimated to her and she to them.

Yes, a visit to the vet confirmed that she is a little female. Seems appropriate, because she is so dainty and feminine. She only weighs about 1 pound, and was badly under nourished. She has little scabs all over her face and paws. Who knows what kind of calamities she has been through? Mrs. Rambler and I wonder if Jack didn’t find her wandering somewhere and carry her home. Given that possibility, Mrs. Rambler decided to name her Jill..you know, Jack and Jill…oh, never mind. Actually, her official name (as far as the vet is concerned) is Jilly Bean.

So that’s the Legend of Jilly Bean. She’s healthy, testing disease free, and appears to be adjusting to life in a house with a dog, and several other kitty foster-brothers and foster-sisters. From the frightened, wild thing she appeared to be, she’s become affectionate and loving. She adores being held and petted and seems to have bonded to both Mrs. Rambler and me. Looks like the menagerie isn’t done growing yet.

All photos courtesy of Mrs. Rambler.