I was strolling along Bedford Row in Holborn, London between my work place and the lunch I was intending to buy, when I heard a mewling from a pile of

rubbish.

I thought it was a rat, and the rubbish wobbled a bit, but it sounded cat-scared-like, rather than ratty.



So I found the right bin-bag, and untied it (extremely cautiously) to find it empty apart from a dead (definitely dead) kitten, and a live black kitten, howling quietly with distress.



I took it home to my flat, which isn't far away, and discovered it was seriously dehydrated but wouldn't lap, so I dipped a sock in water and it sucked that.

I was worried about his health, and so looked up local vets in the yellow pages, in those far-off days when the internet wasn't automatically used...

I took it the vet, who said it was a boy-kitten, approximately 8 weeks old, and in good health. He wormed it and got rid of some ear mites.

Taking him to the vet was fun, because I didn't have a cat basket. I had to fence him in at the back, and hope he didn't escape!



The odd thing was that the vet was pretty sure that until the previous 24-48 hours he was well looked after, and after taking him back home that seemed even more likely.

He developed properly, he was not malnourished, he had no obvious signs of worms or any other parasites, and no obvious fleas.



Back in my flat, he ate and lapped kitten milk quite happily, maybe he had been just shocked earlier (being tied up in a black bin bag with a dead sibling would be quite a nasty experience!) And he used a litter tray with no need for training or encouraging him to do so.

He seemed bright and curious, and he liked people - he purred when he was stroked, and climbed all over people to check them out.



He was not actually a black kitten either - when we washed him at the vet's,

he turned out to be a white kitten all over apart from a tabby-black tail

and a small black splodge between his ears; he's the whitest cat I'd

seen.

It seems that he was socialised, so must have spent his early weeks being nicely looked after by people - yet suddenly he is tied in a sack with his sibling and left to die.

I wonder what tale of human heartache might lie behind Elijah's brush with death?

We decided, as far as Elijah was concerned, to keep him for the moment.

The vet said almost all cats can and are happy kept indoors, but if Elijah turned out not to be one of them, he would go to my sisters in Kent, where he could come and go.



I registered Elijah as found with the police and RSPCA on the off-chance that he was lost, not dumped.

There seemed a slight chance of that, because he was in generally good health and liked people so much.

I got a call at the weekend, which I returned in trepidation <FX "MINE! GERROF!> However, no-one had claimed him, but rather another kitten had been found on Bedford Row.

The new kitten came to us too. Very similar to Elijah in colouring, he was white, almost all over, with a grey stripy bit between his ears, and a white tail. Elijah was very white too, with the black tail, black ear spot, and two 5p-sized black bits on two of his legs.