I suppose congratulations are in order. It appears that I am a mother. What can I say, I seem to be the cat whisperer or something. Or else word has gotten out that this is the hottest place to be in all of catdom? So, yesterday I was minding my own business outside and I heard a kitten crying. I listened harder, but it seemed to just be birds. Perhaps Mockingbirds? I come back outside, and there's the sound again. I'm certain it's a kitten in trouble.
I walk towards the garage and out pops this little guy from behind dad's tractor. Mewing up a storm and running right for me. He's flopping around like a fish out of water on my feet because he's so happy and is purring, rubbing up against my legs before I pick him up, which he allows. We can't have another cat. We have nine and a half. We have nine cats in our house who are officially family members and since this past winter, we have a black fluffy grown up boy cat, which I named Perkins, living in our backyard and basement. He's super BFF's with our elderly dog, Mika. But we're not taking care of Perkins. He's independent and only sleeps in the basement with Mika when it's cold or rainy; otherwise he's his own man so to speak. We can't afford vet bills for another cat, so this little guy can't officially become part of the family and live inside. It doesn't mean that I'm going to let him starve. No kittens will ever starve on my watch. That would just be beyond cruel. And it doesn't mean that I can name him either. I have come up with some possible names already.
He's completely white except for smudge marks, which I found out tonight were from old motor oil. Normally he's hollaring at the front door or from the breezeway; popping out from the bushes or the garage. Traipsing through the yard after me; to and fro like a puppy. However, tonight he popped out from the darkness between The Sisters nonworking MG and our nonworking (but we're fixing it) Audi. It's probably the Audi since the heater box is sitting on our sundeck as that's what we're fixing; which means there's a sizable hole from the firewall leading right into the car. *sigh* I told him to not sleep in the cars because motor oil isn't good for kittens. Perhaps his name should be something mechanicy. That and the fact that my dad dropped his tool box (he uses old military ammo boxes, because we can't afford a fancy tool rolly compartment thing) and has yet to pick up his toys, and this kitten is running over all manner of ratchets and spanners and sockets. However, I can't think of anything good along those lines. I'm not naming him Grease Monkey, though he is one. Could you hear me calling through the neighbourhood, "Here Breaker Bar! Food!" or "Multimeter! Here kitty kitty!" or "Lugnut! Get out of the road!" or how about "Carburetor! Dinner!" Oh, I'm having fun laughing at all of this, but yeah these aren't appropriate names to be calling out in my front lawn for a tiny white kitten. I had some hope when I came outside this afternoon and saw a fluffy Gingie running from the house. I thought perhaps it was his cat mommy. It could be. Or it could be a boy cat who might try to attack him. I'm not certain. But apparently my Fancy Feast Pate/Warm Milk/Cat Food mush brings all the cats to my breezeway. Ha ha ha.
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AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
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