Last night as I was walking Spence, a stray kitten leaped out at me. Of course I screamed as if it were an axe-wielding fiend and called for Diego (as a cat person) to come assess the situation.
It was cold last night in New Denver, and the kitten kept trying to go in the house with us, so I suspect it knew inside > outside, despite not having a collar or anyone concerned it was out-and-about at 11:30 pm. I did not want a strange animal in my house, however, so Diego and I decided we'd leave a box with one of Spencer's old beds outside with some leftover turkey, puppy chow, and milk. Hopefully one of these three things would appeal to the kitten's palate.
Of course, when we returned with our goodies, the kitten was gone, so we left a porch light on for it. I felt guilty over my refusal to let it come inside when I had the chance, but Diego was convinced it would return.
And boy, did it ever.
This morning I woke up to find that the kitten had returned, eaten all the turkey and some milk, which it promptly threw up on my porch. Then pooped on my steps for good measure.