* * *
So, it is done. We took the kittens to the pet store yesterday afternoon around 3:00 – I made Fred go with me – and left. I was crying before we even got out of the store.
Hey. What’s worse than not being able to stop yourself from crying? WHEN A MOTHERFUCKER KEEPS LOOKING AT YOU TO SEE IF YOU’RE CRYING. It’s especially fun when you’re making the ugly cry face and your chin is wobbling, and SAID MOTHERFUCKER keep looking at you and smirking.
Fucker.
He took care of setting up the cage for the cats – food, water, litter box – while I filled out the cards that go on the front of the cage with the cat’s name, date of birth, and description. I felt rushed (FUCKER) because Fred wanted to go hiking – or perhaps wanted to rush me out of there before I started sobbing and begging to keep Snoopy (no, Flossie! No, Edgar! No, Oy! No, Peanut!) – and I just didn’t know what to write to describe the kittens’ personalities, so I ended up writing, on the card that described Edgar and Oy, “Oy likes to climb! Edgar is a big purrer!”
I am the dorkiest dork on earth, I swear to god. Also, apparently not good when rushed.
I was okay once we got home, because I had a lot to do – dinner, cleaning out the cat room – but after dinner when Fred went upstairs to take a bath, I had a good cry. It was hard at bedtime when we went upstairs, because we always both went into the room to play with the kittens, and there was no kitten love to be had.
This morning, I manufactured an excuse had to go in the vicinity of the pet store to pick up something I didn’t need at all I desperately needed, and figured since I was right THERE I’d stop and see how many had been adopted the night before. So I went inside and snuck up the aisle toward the cat room, and basically peeked around the corner so they wouldn’t see me – because if they’d spotted me and started meowing sadly at me, “Whyyy? Why would you put us in a cage? Whyyyy?” it would have been all over – and saw that, in fact, none of them had been adopted.
I suspect that adoptions during the week are kind of few and far between.
But what was heartening was that the kittens were calmly hanging out in the cage, one of them napping, a couple of them playing, and Snoopy in the litter box. They were not, as I’d feared, laying around crying sad little kitten tears, and pining for me.
Ingrates.
It’s funny, but seeing that they weren’t all quivering in fear made me feel better, and I didn’t even tear up, though I did want to run into the cat room and say “Who’s peepin’ at me?” (which is what I’d say when I’d go into the cat room here and they were all just waking up, and Oy and Edgar and Flossie would stumble toward me, sounding exactly like little baby chicks.) and give them all hugs and kisses, but I refrained.
They’ll be okay. I mean, they’re the cutest damn kittens in the world. People will no doubt be arm wrestling each other to adopt them this weekend.
I do miss them, but knowing that they’re okay helps a lot.
Oh, and on a funny side note, the lady who runs the shelter called not an hour before I took the kittens to the pet store and said “I hate to ask this on such short notice…” and my heart leapt with joy, and I thought she’s going to say they can’t go to the store today because there’s not enough room or something! and the thought did not make me sad at ALL. But then she went on to explain that there was a guy who’d found a mother cat and her kittens, and he and his wife were going to keep a couple of the kittens, but could I keep the rest of the kittens – who’d already been neutered – until room opened up at the pet store?
And you KNOW I would have jumped at the chance, but I had to say no, because I’m going out of town on Friday – and I was careful to add “Otherwise, I totally would!” – and Fred wasn’t going to be up for taking care of kittens.
Last night we discussed ways to move things around in the house so that we could still have a guest bedroom, but also have a room for foster cats. We’re going to move everything out of the study so that it’ll be empty and we can have foster cats to our heart’s content. The study is smaller than the room we used for Mia and the babies, but it’ll definitely do. It’s bigger than a cage, anyway!
You know, even if I’d known beforehand that Mia was going to end up dying, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take she and her babies, because this experience has been incredible.
And now, I have a TON of pictures to share with y’all, and then that’ll be it for kitten pictures. At least ’til the next batch! Ha!
Oh, and by the way, when I get around to it – probably when I get back from Maine – I’ll make up some swag with the laughing picture of Flossie. I know I’m going to want a t-shirt with that picture on it, and I’m probably going to get some notecards with it, too. Because that remains one of my favorite cat pictures ever.
Anyway, on to the pictures!
Miss Flossie checks for aliens. Or perhaps flying toys.
Miss Flossie, from above.
“What?”
“Okay, man, be cool. There’s a gallon-sized baggie of primo catnip under the cat bed. Just take it and go, okay?”
“Who, me? No, I don’t look guilty. I didn’t do anything wrong. Okay! Okay, I ate the catnip! And it was AWESOME!”
“Dude, I’m not kidding. SHUT UP.”
Flossie checking out the birds.
Peanut likes to make sure everyone stays clean. He’s the Sheriff in charge of cleanliness. Respect his authoritah!
“Woman, I gotta ask. What’s up with the friggin’ flashy thing all the damn time?”
Edgar’s Saturday Night Fever imitation. He’s stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.
One last smile from Smilin’ Oy.
“Hmm… okay, yeah, I don’t see any cavities this time around, Miz And3rson. That’ll be fifty dollars, please!”
The kissingest kitten.
Look. They heard what you said about me, and they’re going to kick your ass. You better hide, ’cause THEY AIN’T FOOLIN’.
Peanut looks like he’s laughing dorkily.
Fred got out the toy that is, basically, a bunch of fuzzy strings on the end of a stick, and Peanut started jumping for it. Look at his unusual position in this picture. Here’s a closeup:
He’s all kinds of twisted around, the little dork.
Look at the spotted belly!
Leap little Peanut, leap!
Peanut, mid-air.
Oy was, for some reason, freaked out by my hand, and was getting into position to put the smack down.
Kitty porn.
Peanut waits patiently for the killing blow. Or the kiss.
“Hey! Get off! I’m clean enough already, damnit!”
Peanut smiles.
Oy, up close.
Checking out the toy.
Flossie leaping for the toy, under Snoopy’s supervision.
All this playing has exhausted him.
“Gimme a kiss, woman.”
The first thing they do upon waking – after getting some love, that is – is drink water. This is a rare picture of all five of them.
Bright-eyed Oy. He likes to climb!
SO. CUTE.
7/13/05