December 28, 2004

• No,  My Life is NOT a Cabaret

  
  

  Sorry, Liza.  It’s a circus.  Not a three-ring circus, though, but something much better.  It has become a four-kitten circus.

  
  

  As I have mentioned earlier, Silky had four kittens in a box of knives.  That is why I named the first one “Hohner”–that, and because he sounded to me like a harmonica.  And the whole process took her over twelve hours–Hohner was the first, then out popped Buckeyball and Fullerene.  A few hours later, little Dingus joined the crew.  All of them are monochromatic, white and black and gray, all just as cute as, well, kittens.  I kept their box on the floor–after taking out the worst of the knives and adding some t-shirts of mine for warmth–but moved it up on the bed during a cold snap.  I kept it there, Silky got used to it, then they started to be able to get out.  I couldn’t have this, didn’t want a kitten falling off the bed, maybe to the floor and breaking its neck, or onto the oil-heated radiator and getting par-boiled or something.  So I taped up the sides, and put my shower pack (a day-pack with clean clothes and towels and stuff, I take it to the laundromat when I get a shower) next to the box.  She finally learned how to climb up, put her front paws on the side of the box and scramble in.  It didn’t sing, but it worked.

  
  

  I would take the kittens out of the box from time to time for short field trips on the bed.  When they got sufficiently active, I decided–after consulting with the local experts, Kathy and especially Doug (and thanks, guys, for all your advice), I put the box back on the floor and lowered the sides.

  
  

  Soon there were four kittens in brownian motion on the floor–one was subduing one of my socks, another was wading in Silky’s water dish, one was trying to climb up my pant leg and the  fourth was perched on top of one of my boots, no doubt thinking “I’m king of the world, ma!”

  
  

  I did what little I could to kitten-proof the place, blocking off access to a few of the worst and most dangerous nooks and crannies.  Silky was frantic at first, following Buckeyball around and whapping him with her paw when he seemed to be going too far.  He was the first out.  But when all four had gotten out, she just seemed to resign herself, climbed up on my swivel chair and surveyed the situation.

  
  

  I relaxed, too–after all, there’s no way they can get out of the cabin.  After a while they settled down, and all four made their way back into the box.  And I recorded two new benchmarks that night.  I picked up Hohner, held him close to me, and he started to purr–the first kitten-purr that I’ve heard in over fifty years–felt, really  And later, I heated up a can of catfood on the radiator and put it down for Silky.  And Hohner and Dingus started to chow down on it themselves–their first solid food!

  
  

  Now they all go in and out of the box at their convenience.  I have to be  vigilant, make sure I don’t step on one, or into a puddle of kitten-piss.  I put some newspapers down on the floor, but what the hell–the carpet, what there is of it, is old and ratty anyway.

  
  

  I do know one thing–as much as I love the little rascals, the more experience I have with kittens, the gladder I am I never had any children.

  • 2:06 pm
  • 4 Comments