You wake up on a sunny, Saturday morning and prepare to go on your paper route, optimistic that today is the day that all will run smoothly and life will sail along at a beautiful pace. Then just as you are gathering up your three children, along with the two nieces who spent the night, one of them cries out, “We have kittens!”
Sure enough, there on the ground, a blind, little kitten is crawling around in front of the doghouse. Two children begin hunting for the rest of the litter while the other three run inside to inform hubby of the exciting news. Thus began our series of unfortunate events.
Five of us stood peering over the side of the deck, while two lifted the top off the doghouse so they could retrieve the remaining kittens. Unfortunately, only one had survived. The others were stiff, slimy, and cold, prompting an immense amount of shrieking and ewwwing from the girls. Our brave eleven-year-old son finally took matters into his own hands, literally, and disposed of the tiny corpses.
The little bit of a kitten that remained was cold and underfed, so we went to work trying to coax the mama cat into caring for it. We’d only had her two weeks and didn’t realize she was expecting, so this came as quite a surprise. We were pleased though, because we only had two male cats and had taken this female specifically for the purpose of having kittens around the place again.
However, she proved resistant and stubborn, refusing to have anything to do with her baby. I scolded her for being such a poor mama and set about looking for the tiny bottles we keep for feeding orphaned critters. Our cranky, old, male cat, on the other hand, wouldn’t leave the kitten alone.
Fearful that it was he who had caused the demise of the other babies, we did our best to keep him away from the one remaining. We finally put the kitten in a nice, padded box, and carried it into the house, but that ornery male cat ran in behind us and commenced to hiding in a deep corner on the bottom pantry shelf. He was hissing and snarling and shedding long strands of fur all over my canned goods
With five children dancing behind him, shouting various words of encouragement, hubby tried to coax the cat out. When that failed, he tried pushing him out with a broom. Verbal threats came next, followed closely by heavy sighing and grunting as he dropped to his knees and attempted to pull it out by its front paws.
At this point one of the girls noticed that the kitten was no longer moving and she became completely hysterical. Just for kicks, I watched as hubby tried dealing with an angry, claw-baring cat and an overwrought, emotionally charged daughter at the same time. I couldn’t pay for entertainment this good.
Let’s just say everything he’s been learning in his Dale Carnegie “How to Make Friends and Influence People” course went out the window faster than you can whimper, “But Daddy! The kitten’s going to DIE!”
For daughter’s sake, I finally stepped in.
Just as she began to calm down, we heard a loud snort in the pantry. Children went flying everywhere as hubby rounded the corner toward the back door, dangling the outraged cat by the nape of its neck. As he reached for the handle, one of the kids piped up, “Daddy, that cat’s bottom is bleeding!”
Hubby gave me a startled look and I quietly asked, “Are you positive that’s a male?”
“Sure it is,” youngest daughter offered. “Daddy checked it a long time ago.”
“Well, I think he better check again,” I suggested.
Sure enough, Daddy had misread the coding on the bottom. “No wonder she’s such a poor mama,” he mused, “she’s been a boy for the past three years.”
I quickly apologized to our newfound female for keeping her away from her baby, and then felt as though I ought to offer an apology to the other cat for the scolding I had delivered to her. Being an expectant mama myself I couldn’t decide which was worse, being separated from my own baby, or being forced to breastfeed someone else’s when I didn’t even have the proper functions yet.
As much as I would like for it to be, life around our house is never dull. Halfway through our paper routes the sun disappeared and we got caught in a freak hail storm. Upon returning home, we were disappointed to find that a friend who was supposed to visit had come down with the flu. By that afternoon we’d made a trip to the ER due to a trampoline accident, and by evening I was hissing and baring my own claws when an overly eager, bleached-blonde in a tight, white t-shirt made it all too clear that she would like to be more than just a fan of hubby’s music. (That article is forthcoming.)
In the meantime, the kitten is faring well. Once we informed the mama cat that she is indeed a mama she took to her duties with great aplomb. And in case you’re wondering, as soon as hubby completes his Dale Carnegie course, we will be signing him up for Anatomy 101.
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