She bought bottles and formula, afraid cow’s milk wasn’t enough. Feeding time became a ritual. Shadow’s jaws clamped tight, drinking with desperate ferocity. When full, it pressed its head into the crook of her elbow, a low rumble vibrating her arm. Elise whispered lullabies, her unease softened by affection.
By three weeks, Shadow doubled in size. Paws sprawled comically large across the blankets, claws glinting sharper than pins. Elise chose shirts and T-shirts with long sleeves to hide scratches from sudden playful swipes. Friends teased her about becoming a “cat mother.” She laughed along but never showed them the animal.