Car stopped.Yep, some quasi-human turd dumped a nine-week-old black kitten right outside my gate.
Car drove off.
The drive in to work was interesting, with a detour to the vet's office to drop off said furball for shots, neutering, etc. Since I couldn't find my cat carrier, most of the trip involved picking the kitten off the gear shift, off the power window switches, and off my head, then setting him on the passenger seat. Repeatedly. There are only a few scratches left on my arms.
Nothing like coming in to the office with cat hair and little muddy cat feet all over your khaki 5.11 pants.
Could have been worse, though. At least he wasn't a full-blown four-legged Cuisinart. Or the spawn of Chthulu.
Now to find the little stinker a nice, responsible, permanent home. With somebody else.