Part 2 — the mama cat.
She always sleeps with her nose almost touching — or actually touching — the ground. I have no idea why. She is a little cat, and she was brought in as a stray (bullshit — she was a pet) so she has no name. Unlike with the kittens, she might get to keep her name while up for adoption.
And look, now she and Matilda are sharing — MY CHAIR.
The mother is very friendly, purrful, and seems to be letting Matilda be alpha cat. The kittens — still an undifferentiated mass of fuzz — are stumbly when they walk, squeaky instead of meowy, and some of them are happy to be petted.
Litter box is going to be fun. (They’re all trained, thankfully.)
After all the jumps and balconies and dollar store plants . . . would it have been worth while to have bitten off the matter with a smile?
Matilda clearly says yes. Next up: does she dare to eat a peach (pie)?
Especially because you’re so beautiful when doing that. (Used my friend’s card reader. Still searching for mine.)
In my guilt over having run out of food one day, I bought my cat cat grass (which got attacked when it was outside) and kitty treats (Caribbean Catch by Pounce). She did not like the kitty treats, but I decided it was because she’s a picky eater (though never with treats). Okay. I’ll give the treats to the other cats. Eva was insulted when I held them near her. Sam sniffed them and walked away. Cocoa picked one up then dropped it back out of his mouth, covered in spit but otherwise untouched.
My cat just decided to take a nap on my butt.
Oh no — I am out of cat food. What about my hungry hungry baby kitten? I just gave her two handfuls of cat treats, but now she won’t be fed until some time tomorrow. She’s so skinny already! Sorry starving baby. Here’s a third handful of cat treats instead.
I got home tonight, opened the door, called the cat. The cat didn’t come (because, as a cat, she comes when called. Yeah, right. But usually she figures she can sneak out if the front door is open). I dropped all my stuff and ran upstairs, sure that she had escaped when my house was robbed.
She’s just fine. My house has not been robbed. And I got a nice, albeit brief, workout.
I read a couple of cat rescue blogs, when I can. And you know, I can never decide if I’m someone they’d even want to adopt out to. I mean, I gave my cat away. Sure, I can — do — have excuses. He wasn’t happy here; he was happy at my parents’ house; he likes them better; he refused to leave the closet here. And yes, of course I would have kept him if my parents hadn’t wanted him, and if anything ever happens, I will take him back. But you know, I’m thinking, I want another cat, or cats — but I am picky in what the cat should look like. I like long hair. I don’t want another solid coloured cat, really I’d like a tabby. Because Til is declawed, I want a declawed cat. But I read these blogs, saying that people who’ve ever given pets away shouldn’t have any more pets, or people who have preferences in what their cat looks like don’t really like cats, they should get a stuffed animal instead, and I think, of course I understand that you want to check me out, see that I keep my current cat safe and healthy, be sure I’m not into just discarding animals when I get bored. You are welcome to see that Sammy is safe and healthy, too. But if it’s impossible to ever have a good reason to give a pet away, or ever just have a preference in looks (that, yes, translates into adopting only cats that look right) without being some sort of monster, then — well, I may not be perfect, but I take good care of my animals (better care than I take of myself).
Adopt another cat, should I? Matilda really doesn’t like other cats very much (this is why Sammy moved to my parents’ house, where he is so happy). But there are so many sweet, needy cats on petfinder. And she’d get over it. Eventually. Maybe. Maybe I could get two other cats, and they would play with each other and leave Til alone?
I could so happily be a crazy cat lady.