The thing wouldn't shut up. It wasn't just that it felt compelled to explain ever single little god damn to her in what must be minute detail if she understood kitten-ese, it was the fact that the pitch of her damn meow mimicked that of a crying baby, triggering something deep down inside that only nails on a chalkboard could compete with.
Jesus christ the thing was annoying. She wondered to herself, not for the first time, why she brought the boisterous little rat home. That's how they get you. They lure you in with their pretty looks and their cute demeanor, and they don't open their mouths until they're home and dry and sure that you won't kick her out. Christ, a gold digger could learn a thing or two.
She looked down at the baby animal. It looked hungry. What do kittens even eat? It didn't touch the milk she put down earlier. Exasperated, she darted through her phone and looked up that animal-fetish girl in her class. She'd know.
Finally, after some back and forth and a staunch refusal to let the girl come over (god knows what she would do to the thing's tail), the cat began and finished it's little meal. Content, it jumped over and curled up on the little girl's lap, kneading and purring in its sleep.
Well, it wouldn't hurt to keep it a bit longer.