Back when my roomie and I had dirt poor issues, scrounging through garbage cans for discarded Hot Pockets and the like, we adopted kittens in hopes of providing them with a syringe-less bed to curl upon. We didn't divulge our urges to the goodness of a higher calling, oh no.
You see, we provided the sick kitties with a place to stay for cold, hard cash. (Next week, I'll talk about my hooker-dom.)
Jezebel (pictured, right) was the kitty who suffered an abortion. During mid-preggers, Jezebel had a complication which ended with the result of her babes being yanked from her uterus.
I called her Jezebel because she was a whore, a dirty filthy kitty whose soul I prayed away to Jesus. I can't recall who adopted Jezebel, but suffice to say, her soul's been wiped clean.
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