Monday, July 27, 2020
Today I am grateful for grand-kittens. Both of our local sons and families have new kittens. One has one, the other has two. It’s like a study in hairballs! But what fun.
We had the opportunity to check out Misty at our son and his wife’s anniversary party. She’s a hoot, rolling and wrestling with Winnie, their cockapoo, like they were siblings. Unfortunately, their existing cat, Tacocat, (spelled the same backwards and forwards), is not happy. She likes being outside anyway and is now dramatically telling all of the feral animals how horrible her life has become since the new kitten arrived. She comes in the house to eat, take a few swipes at the kitten, and hide before sneaking out again.
There are two new kittens at the other house and they are a tag team of destruction. We saw them when visiting a granddaughter who is house sitting for her dad. Watching them was way more exciting that TV and less stressful.
Growing up we had hundreds of kittens, so I know how they play, rolling and nipping at their buddies necks and kicking the other guy in the guts. That’s how these kittens play. Like the siblings they are. Like my sons used to, only without the subsequent stitches. So far.
But old Ruby, a beautiful gray tabby, whom we have kept here in the past, is not a fan. She loves Himself and loves being brushed, but could barely sit still for it because she was flipping out at those kitten intruders. She sleeps with one eye open, hissing and taking a swing at them if one ventures too close. Like human toddlers, they are barely phased and push her every second.
Since their nemesis, the four-year-old granddaughter wasn’t there to love them to distraction, they seem to have gotten bolder, leaping on the dining room table, surfing the cloth to the ground and sharpening their claws on the rug. I scolded. They looked at me just like a toddler does. Then they did it again. I slapped the table and the stopped. For two seconds, then practically gave me the finger with their paws.
I thought they were settling down when Daisy, probably egged on by Oliver, came charging from the dining room, through the living room and leaped in one motion, like she had been projected from a dart gun, to land hanging in the middle of the sheer curtains on the front window. Wow. Too fast to even scold.
It’s so much fun having new grand-kittens. But I’m glad I’m not living with them full-time. Just watching them leaves me exhausted.