I named him Cy, short for Cyclopse. I was ecstatic! With Sasha in the bedroom, I brought Cy into the bathroom, then ripped up a turkey slice with a dixie cup "dish" of milk. He wouldn't take either and he felt like a bag of bones when I picked him up. ☹ I made sure to be extra gentle and hold him close. Michael came home shortly after and I got excited to tell him that I caught one of the kittens, especially since I thought that's what we were supposed to do so an employee or volunteer from the animal shelter could come get him.
"You didn't catch the kitten." Michael said, almost laughing.
I laughed back, delighted. "I'm so serious. I really did. The kitten with one eye- he's is in the bathroom right now."
He squinted his eyes, unsure, "No he's not.."
For some reason, as often as Michael gets upset or aggravated about the bigger adult cats that our elderly neighbor "takes care of" and I use that phrase loosely, he has a soft spot for the little kittens. He even wiped the pus from Cy's closed eye with a wet q-tip. And Eureka! His eye began to open halfway. Michael told me that I had to put the kitten back outside, and I'll admit I was beginning to feel a tad sneezy, but he agreed to take some pictures of me holding Cy before I let him go. Precious, right?
*I did look up that Cyclops is spelled without the "E" on the end, but I like it better with it.