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humorous and serious observations of life |
| Last year one of our outside cats had a litter of two kittens, one of which decided that the outside was for the birds and she wanted to live inside with the other civilized folks. It took her some months of tagging around after my husband, shadowing his every step and insisting that he pick her up to convince him that she should be allowed to come inside for a visit. Soon she was running in and out like one of the grandkids. Then, four weeks ago she began to act strangely, complaining to him with that gripey meow that slowly runs you up a wall. He finally came to me asking, "What's wrong with her? What should I do?" Since it was after midnight I suggested he put her in the guest bedroom or outside. He put her in the guest room and in a while she stopped meowing and we didn't hear another sound. The next morning he opened the door to the guest room but she didn't dart out like she usually did. We waited around for awhile, put food in her dish and even called her. No cat came out. After awhile I talked him into peeking under the bed and sure enough she was there. He tried to coax her out but she ignored him. "I think she's mad at me," he said a morosely. "She won't even look at me." This went on for nearly a week, with the cat only appearing briefly for a bite of food and a drink of water, and a quick trip outside. If my husband walked into the kitchen while she was eating, she gave him a contemptous look and turned her back on him. We were both baffled. I peeked under the bed to see if she had kittens but could see nothing except the edge of the bedspread ruffled against the far wall. Finally she left her home under the bed and came out more and more, only going back occasionally. I decided that she must have kittens, got down and looked again, saw nothing and was about to move the bed when I heard a tiny little squeek. With some very careful exploration I finally found her secret....one tiny white kitten. It was curled into a little ball of white fluff not much bigger than a dust bunny. I carefully checked to be sure it was healthy (it is) and eating enough (it must be because it's plump as a peach) and put it back where Mama had left it. It now is about four weeks old and mama kitty brings her out frequently for short visits. She wobbles around on little stick legs and gazes up at you out of huge blue eyes. She has just started playing, and having no siblings that makes for a problem. So, she has begun to head right for my husband's feet, especially if he has his socks and shoes off. When she finds them, she rolls over on her back and wraps her little forelegs around his toes and tries to play with them. Her tiny needle sharp claws dig in and he makes plenty of protests against the assault, with 'ouches' and other foreign words that I beg him not to translate. And her appearance, like the appearance of any baby, has changed our lives. We have to be sure we turn lights on as we move through the house at night lest we step on her. Soon it will be a trip to the doctor (vet) for shots and other necessary things. It will also mean play toys and milk and soft food soon as her mother is already drying up in the milk department. To tell the truth, I'd forgotten how much time and attention a baby, any kind of baby, requires. The outside cats do fine on their on, but this cat thinks like many modern mothers, that the grandparents can raise the kid. As I told my husband, enjoy this baby, because mama is soon going to vet, too. I'm just too old to be raising any more kids. |
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