On Monday afternoon, Scott and I had a rare opportunity to take a bike ride together. We’d only ridden about 10 minutes when he suggested we turn around and come home.

“Already?” I said, hoping to ride further down the road, but turning around anyway. We were returning on the same route we’d come, when we noticed the dog, Sara, wagging her tail and sniffing at something on the side of the gravel road. It was a tiny kitten, its eyes glued shut with infection.

I got off my bike and picked it up. It didn’t claw at me to make its escape, as many wild kittens will do. Scott tucked in his shirt and put the kitten inside, and we rode the rest of the way home and asked Everett if he’d like to take over its care and feeding. He agreed right away, and has been keeping it in a cardboard box outside. He calls the little kitten Houdini, because she is an accomplished escape artist.

“See?” Scott said. “There was a reason we turned around early.”

This evening it occurred to us that there might be more kittens out there, so we rode out on our bikes for a second look. We didn’t find any. The ditch is a strange place for kittens to be, unless — and it’s an ugly thought — some irresponsible pet owner dropped them off out there.

She’s a sweet little thing. Her eyes are getting slowly better, and she likes the dog.