Rocky was named after the Rocky Balboa character.
He was a feral kitten who should have been scared of humans. The neighbor kid had found a nest of kittens and taken the “orange” kitten to play with him. When he went to return him, the mama cat had moved the rest of her litter.
When I found the kid he was using the kitten as a literal “fur ball” throwing the kitten in the air and trying to catch him when he came back down. When I came yelling and screeching the kid threw the kitten in a grocery cart, bounced the cart a few times to see the kitten juggle around and then took off running. The kitten , who would become “Rocky” was so tiny that he fell through the wire bottom of the cart.
I thought oh oh, he’ll head for the woods now but instead he picked himself up, shook his head and with that little kitten waddle, made a bee line for me.
The kitten’s eyes were runny and swollen, obviously infected and who knew if he had injuries from his treatment by the kid. At the vet’s office they refused to treat him unless I named him. Under pressure like that I couldn’t think of anything cute or original. All I could think of was that the kitten didn’t have any more sense than Rocky did in the movie by the same name. Yeah, Rocky got beat up, knocked down but he wouldn’t stay down. He got right back up and in the end, bruised and bashed up, he won. So this little resilient kitten became “Rocky”.
I still planned to take him to the shelter. Little Joe never accepted other cats. So I put the now treated kitten in the spare room for the weekend. The first day was fine. I’d go into the room to spend time with him. As soon as I called “Rocky” he’d come toddling out from where ever he was hiding. The vet was surprised that he was eating solid food. They thought he was too young to be weaned but he didn’t seem to have any problem eating the canned food I was offering. He was so tiny and cute.
This was when I first learned what a great escape artist Rocky would turn out to be. Coming back from an errand I saw the door open to the spare room. My heart dropped. I was sure I’d find his bloody little body shredded somewhere.
Was I ever surprised when I found a black and white Persian cuddled up with a tiny orange kitten on the couch.
Rocky had found a home…fur-ever.