🐾 Bringing Home Baby

🐾 Bringing Home Baby

What’s the world coming to when our pets start bringing home their own pets?

It all began a few weeks ago on one of those quiet rural evenings — the kind where the frogs are chirping, the stars are winking, and I’m still up late working on a project. My kids and I live tucked away in the woods, so when my dogs slipped out for a little adventure, I knew I’d be waiting up.

I was chatting on the phone with my daughter, Haley, when the front door suddenly flung wide open. My heart leapt, and there they were — my adventurous pups, returning from their grand escapade like they’d just conquered the wilderness.

“I’ve got to get that door fixed,” I sighed. “Even the crippled cat can push it open now.”

Haley laughed and kept telling me about her day. Then, just as I was settling back down, I heard a strange squeak — somewhere between a mouse and a rusty hinge.

“Shh, I hear something,” I whispered.

Before I could investigate, Haley’s perfect collie, Maisy, trotted in and dropped something at my feet. Then she looked up at me with the most earnest eyes and let out a whine that didn’t sound like her usual bark.

“What is it, Lassie? Did Timmy fall in the well?” I teased — but Maisy didn’t find it funny. She nudged the tiny, shivering bundle on the floor.

And that’s when I saw it.

A kitten. A cold, frail, soaking wet, mud-streaked baby — no more than a month old.

“Ohhh…” I gasped, scooping her up. “Maisy, what have you done?”

Maisy wagged her tail proudly. She had found a baby and clearly decided she was now a mom.

Luckily, thirty years of animal rescue experience kicked in. I knew just what to do — warm bath, heating pad, kitten formula, and lots of quiet prayers. As I got her cleaned up, I realized she wasn’t a calico at all — just dirty. Underneath all that grime was a beautiful little black-and-white kitten that looked like a miniature cow.

A Match Made in Fur Heaven

Maisy refused to leave her new baby’s side. She bathed her, snuggled her, and even “potty-stimulated” her — something only real mama cats usually do! The only thing she couldn’t handle was feeding time, but she supervised every bottle session like a proud nurse.

For weeks, this unlikely duo was inseparable. Maisy guarded her kitten from the other pets, carried her around the house (until she got too heavy), and even plopped her onto my bed whenever she thought baby was getting too wild.

Eventually, the kitten — now affectionately named Minnie Hotdog — grew into a rambunctious little explorer. Maisy could no longer scoop her up, but she still kept a watchful eye. Poor Maisy. Parenting is hard — even across species lines.

The Happily-Ever-After (Mostly)

Now that Minnie is weaned, I keep asking myself: Do we rehome her… or is she family now?

The answer probably lies somewhere between “let’s think about it” and “I’ll decide in twenty years.” Because honestly, this little miracle and her canine mom have become part of our story.

We never found where Minnie came from, but she was clearly meant to be here. And Maisy — gentle, loyal, full of heart — reminded us that love doesn’t care about species, breeds, or boundaries.

Sometimes family finds you — even if it walks in on four muddy paws. 🐶💕

Author’s Note:
If you ever wonder whether compassion is instinctive, look no further than a dog who adopts a kitten. Maisy may not have saved Timmy from a well, but she saved something just as precious — a little life.