They decide to keep the cat, the poor kitten needs them, this is obvious, and raise it. Though learning to raise such an animal was a bit of a learning curve. However, they found it quite protective of them, and very comforting on days when things were ... difficult.
@internutter/challenge-03290-i002-hello-you-are-mine -- Anon Guest
When the Humans encounter something small, usually a serving of food, they tend to say, "It's a shame to take it away from its mother." This tiny predator seemed... shameful to take away from its home and habitat.
Nevertheless, Wutu had acquired a new cat. A very new cat, as the Mediks declared. One of them went so far as to declare it a 'bumper car' kitten[1]. They even provided helpful pictures. Cats ate creatures like Wutu, but this one had evidently claimed Wutu as her own. Wutu was warm and soft and smelled like a nice place to nest.
Further, Wutu had fed it, cementing the deal.
The Humans told stories that involved the offering of food or the taking of food to deadly and dangerous creatures. Wutu really should have heard them before offering the little ball of fluff some meat and then running away.
So now they had a cat.
A Station Stray[2].
What followed that knowledge was even more knowledge. And the installation of a Habit Inhibitor for better prevention. At Level Two, a Havenworlder like Wutu could withstand a cat's rough tongue, but was also encouraged to 'boop' the creature's nose when such grooming got too intense.
At this stage of things, the little creature was content to rub and purr.
As for personal safety against the daggers in those fluffy little paws, the Humans declared that a thick denim was a sufficient barrier. Wutu could also trim said claws, and add protective coverings. Given that the latter involved daily close encounters with Deathworlder natural weaponry, Wutu chose the denim. The thickest denim they could acquire.
After some consultations, Wutu also invested in a Kitty Gym, some self-cleaning litter trays, and a number of toys. All of which were sniffed intensely by the kitten, and then abandoned in favour of snuggling.
Then there was the matter of names. Several very important Humans in history had written about the naming of cats. Once the name became realised, the contract was complete. This would be their cat.
One writer considered complicated names that were hard to pronounce. Another advocated short, monosyllabic ones that could suffice as a swear. A third insisted on matching personality to the feline and using that. Preferably with a soft S or high-pitched noise in there.
Wutu, still counfounded, set on their way with their new cat. Snuggled on denim, purring up a storm, she looked like a ball of fluff. Seemingly harmless. Mostly Harmless, just like the rest of Terra.
"You are deceptive," insisted Wutu.
At that last word, the kitten looked up and mewed inquiringly.
"Deceptive," repeated Wutu.
Mew? Went the kitten.
And so it was. New cat. Entered into the logs as Deceptive. No sooner had the entry reached the greater databases, than the name became shortened to Dessie.
Wutu spoiled her rotten.
Of course.
[1] The stage of a tiny cat's life when the tail sticks straight up, like the power aerial of a bumper car.
[2] Even in the 25th century, people refuse to spay and neuter their pets.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / evgenyi]
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