It's always the best ones...

It didn't take long to get to know and adore Bitey. He had me from our flea ridden "hello."

Boyfriend was won over by Bitey's hilarious attempts to bat streams of running water with his tiny paw. Long running streams of any liquid actually, which made for fun times in the bathroom.... Bitey also learned to be a bit less "bitey" which made for increased fondness and greater toe safety.

Once the Percoset wore off, Single Blonde Female was less thrilled with Bitey's continued residence in our apartment, which was by landlord decree, supposed to be cat-free. But, like the pro she was, she faked it. (By the way, do you kind of get the idea that roomie is no longer my roomie?)

During Bitey's first trip to the vet we learned he was approximately three months old, and that, aside from being too skinny, he seemed healthy. So when the test results came back, it was a shock to learn he was positive for Feline Leukemia Virus.

Somewhere in the first three months of his life, either from his mother, or during his time on the streets, Bitey had contracted FeLV. This also explained why no one seemed to be looking for their lost kitten. Every spring, the vet's parking lot was the dumping ground of choice for unwanted kittens. Most were found there and put up for adoption. For whatever reason, Bitey took a hard right, skipped the house with the fake pond, and wound up hiding behind the tree in my front garden.

The idea that Bitey wasn't wanted eased my guilt at not putting up signs, but didn't stop my boyfriend from torturing me by imaging, out loud, the sad little girl searching the back alleys of West Hollywood for her lil' kitty Oliver.

But back to the FeLV. The vet explained this meant that while Bitey could be perfectly healthy for a while, we couldn't expect him to live as long as other cats. How long? Perhaps two years, perhaps five.

Damn.