Fur Was Flying
December 5, 2013
It has come to my attention that kittens, regardless of color scheme, fur length, or gender, do not understand (or care about) the command ‘stay.’ In fact, it’s a universally excepted theory that felines allow us to exist in this world. And somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew this, but there was still a miniscule particle of my gray matter that hoped, wished even, that it wasn’t so. Let’s face it, unless you own a cat that ‘allows’ you to live in their home you wouldn’t normally consider being faced with asking, very nicely, a feline to “STAY!” Dickens, I haven’t owned cats in years, yet a mother cat (someone probably dropped off) found her way under my house and had a litter of kittens. I only discovered this when I found a 3-4 week old kitten in the driveway one night, which my friend Dawn took home.
So I started feeding Momma Cat when I’d see her because I wasn’t sure if there were siblings. Besides, I was determined to take her to the vet and have her, you know, taken care of. WHAT?! Oh heavens no, I meant fixed…nothing like a promiscuous feline catting about the neighborhood with just any ol’ Tom. Yet, I hadn’t seen her for the past few weeks and thought someone took her in.
Then last Sunday after church I saw Momma Cat in the driveway and my heart leapt for joy. But wait…she wasn’t alone…and I’m not talking about that huge yellow Tom whose been hanging around. No, Momma Cat was surrounded by three of the cutest, most adorable balls of fur…because ‘cute’ is what kittens do best.
Like a shot, I dashed…seriously, I dashed to my front door grabbing the cat food on the way. Out the front door I went calling, “Momma Cat, Momma Cat.” She came running with three little kittens following behind. Oh my! How adorable! Well durn diddlies, I decided right then I’d bring them in and take them to the vet on Monday. Precisely how I was reacquainted with the lesson I already knew: Cats don’t take orders…ever!
Nah nah nah!! Catch me if you can!
Having an amazingly uneventful night, Monday morning dawned and it was time to round up furry felines. There was only one problem. I needed a box. “Surely, I have a box,” I thought. I just cleaned out my garage and put all empty boxes in one corner, thus out to the garage I went. Yeppers, I was an animal lover on a mission. Ah-ha, found it! “Wowzer, this ought to do the trick,” I said out loud…for no other reason than I was excited about taking care of the little bundles of fluff. Back in the house I went, overly confident that the hard part of finding an appropriate carton was over.
However, that soon became the easy part as I realized catching fleeing furballs should be an Olympic sport. Nabbing the tuxedo first I placed him in the box and said firmly “stay.” Except as soon as I deposited kitten #2 in the box, kitten #1 jumped out and there was still kitten #3 to catch.
Wowzer, after several attempts with the same result I was beginning to think I was in the middle of the Abbott and Costello skit: “Who’s on first? Third base!” where Abbott explains the game over and over again. Dickens, by the time I had all three kittens in the box I was on the floor panting. Whew! That’s when…dare I say…I did something dumber than I can believe…and tried to put momma in the box. Suddenly, three little balls of fur were flying in all directions. Yikes!
Deciding to get a different box for Momma Cat, I finally had all the kittens back in the box where they all stared up at me with those adorable kitten eyes as I closed the lid. Momma Cat had been quietly watching the commotion so I picked her up and put her in a different box. Whew! By this time I was sweating, panting and feeling faint as I called the vet to let him know I was on my way. “Had to round up a posse of kittens!” I said exasperated.
What a great job Momma Cat did at the vet’s office…the kittens…no so much. I should have seen it coming. Because when the vet was ready for the kittens I opened the box and pulled out my favorite first, an adorable tortoise shell that looks like caramel and chocolate blended together. Well, that was just what his siblings were waiting for as fur was flying again when they raced out of the box and ran about the vet’s office.
Of course, we forgot to close the door to the examination room, which meant furballs were on the loose. Holy dickens! The chase was on again! The tuxedo went one way and the solid black one went the other. (I’ve nicknamed him Mr. T, short for Trouble with a capital T.) That little dickens got under the duct work for the furnace and I had to crawl into a 15 inch space sideways to get him out. Whew! When it was all said and done I told the vet I was going home to take a nap. Three kittens and a momma cat, who knew? I just hope Santa finds homes for them by Christmas.
Can you imagine…which kitten went which way?
Smile, it’s time for good cheer.
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