Kittens are adorable, right? Well, I think I could agree a little bit more if we qualify it. How about…domestic kittens are cute, right? Wild kittens. Not so cute. So, tonight on the way to Boy Scouts, a woman flags me down and says to watch, because on the other side of the one-way bridge there are kittens in the street. Well, unlike wild kittens, when I slowed the van they swarmed. I opened my door and they ran to me. I dumped boxes of Girl Scout cookies all over my trunk and started filling the boxes with kittens. Seven kittens. Seven friendly kittens. So, since they wanted to climb out of the boxes, I had to hand a box of kittens to Celia, David, and Daniel. Then when we finally arrived at Scouts, I had to take them in. Not to mention it was a good way to advertise the kittens…
Two separate litters. An orange tabby, and two black tabbies from one litter. And three black kittens and a white kitten with black spots at his eyes from a younger litter.
The orange tabby was adopted at Boy Scouts. Which means I brought six kittens home. Six kittens that need food and a vet. And I do not want then to end up at a shelter, euthanized because no one wants another kitten. So, we’re vigorously washing our hands when we touch them. We fed them dinner at nine: cat food with some water added. Man they went nuts when we walked in with food. At 10:30 I fed them another pan of food. This time it was cat food with half-and-half added. When they finished their bellies were full and they began purring. I wiped them a bit with wipes and let them play. They loved the dried ficas leaves on the floor. A few of them peed in their new litter box, and then I put them back in the crate for the night.
What really stinks…I REALLY want to keep one!!!
Henry has gotten into this habit of actually waking at about 5 AM. He drags all his knit and crocheted blankets and piles them onto my bed before attempting to climb in himself. At this point I groggily say, “You can’t come in my bed until you go potty.” That is, after all, what woke him. He just won’t acknowledge that on his own. Last night he said, “Follow me.” I was obviously still quite asleep, because I remember saying, “Where are we going?” He walked to my side of the bed, held out his hand, and answered, “To the baff-room.” In my head I was thinking, “Right. Right. Of course. The bathroom…” So we stumbled down the hall together. He stood for a moment by the unopened toilet. I asked, “Are you going to go potty? Or should I go first?” He said, “We’ll go together.” (I think he’s still under the impression that everyone has a penis.) He said he wanted to stand to pee. He looked so cute on his tippy-toes, using both hands to aim–even though he really doesn’t need to. When we were all finished in the bathroom, we stumbled back to bed. Just as I got in, he asked, “Where’s my blue blankie?” I probably mumbled, “I don’t know.” And Henry said, “It has to be dum-where.” After a few more “It has to be dum-where’s” I found it on the floor on his side of my bed. He snatched it from my hand and said, “Dare it is!” And he snuggled down to sleep a few more hours.
