I woke up Sunday around 5 in the morning from a dream about cats. Tink, I dreamt, was hurt and complaining, in a very small-cat voice. I stumbled downstairs and found Tink sleeping on the chair, perfectly fine. I went back to bed.
Sunday evening, around dusk, I was washing dishes in the kitchen with the windows open and heard the same complaint. I looked outside.
Kittens in the garden. Two tiny kittens.
I put some litter and some food and water in the pantry, and they’re happy now. I surveyed the neighbors – everybody saw them, nobody wants them – and I did a careful look around the house for an injured and/or hiding mom. I’m not going to let them back outside because of hawks, because of traffic, and because of some bad neighborhood kids. But I’ll take them to the no-kill shelter in Beacon when it opens on Thursday.
Until then, my two (allegedly) grown cats are terrified of two tiny kittens who stumble and totter and mewl.
joanna ·
Cats can be dorks sometimes.
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mike (author) ·
Absolutely.
In fact, as of tonight until tomorrow afternoon when they go to the shelter, there is a new kitten-rule in effect here:
Litterbox poop is not a toy.
Ever.
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Hermagoras ·
Fellow writing teacher: enjoying your blog. Meanwhile, you’ve been tagged.
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jmjung ·
Mike,
I like cats, too.
I’m trying to find your prof. email address (to see if you want to write a response essay for JAC), but I can’t find it. If interested, please email me asap. Thanks. Julie J.
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mike (author) ·
Thanks for the note, Julie. I’ve emailed you.
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mike (author) ·
And thanks, H – I’ve added you to the blogroll, and look forward to reading more from you.
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