Thursday, May 13, 2010
(Georgia with Coconut; Flurry, Ferbie & Fergie, front to back) (Fergie & Furbie)
Because my life is just not hectic enough, I decided to copy my friend Lisa S. and become a foster home for kitties. Dave & I both grew up with cats but have never had one because there are just so many friends allergic to the little critters. Mentally I go round and round, with my inner Cat Lady battling my Hostess with the Mostest about whether or not to bring cats into the house.
Last year Lisa told me she found this organization called "The Cat Connection" that let's you temporarily house moms & their kittens. This seemed the perfect compromise: the kids get all the fun of the kittens but then they go away just when they start to get tired of feeding them and changing the litterbox; and if I keep them in the basement, then the rest of the house (where the parties happen and the guests stay) would be free of dander & fur.
Meanwhile, critters of another sort are assaulting our house. From time to time mice get in the walls and I have to put poison around to keep them at bay. Lately they've gotten bold and actually stormed our castle. Two weeks ago I open the closet to the laundry chute and there is a mouse hanging out by my bottles of stain remover. He sees me, and no joke, turns around, wedges his nose between Spray & Wash and Oxyclean and buries his head under his paws as if that would conceal him. Of course I get short-bus mice. A few days later they appeared in our basement and I offered the kids $2 if they caugt a mouse; I didn't really think they'd catch any but I needed them out of my hair for a while. Here are Georgia & Millie with their catches.
They'd clearly gotten into my poison and were super docile. Dying things are like that.
Finally the call came that 4 kittens (3 sisters & a brother) needed a temporary home for a few weeks. That night I dreamed I was in the basement and a fat grey mouse ran across my feet and under the futon. As I drove to the house to get the kitties I was a little sad I was only getting kittens this round as an experienced mama cat would have a better chance of killing my vermin. I brought the kittens home and as I was getting things set up in the basement, out shoots a fat grey mouse that runs across my foot and under the futon. It's their cockiness that really gets me, like they're daring me to actually do something. I looked at the little furry kittens and said, "Sic kitties, sic!" Of course they just stare at me with their "We are Siamese if you please" attitude that all cats have.
I ran to Petco to get supplies and 20 minutes later when I went into the basement I saw the most beautiful thing: Fergie is shaking a furry grey lump her mouth which she drops to the ground and then bats to Ferbie. Ferbie whacks it to Coconut and my heart skips a beat: My kittens are playing soccer with a dead mouse. I love them and their little killer instincts.
The kids are loving them. Jonah takes his homework into the basement and lets the kittens sleep on him while he reads. The girls get up early to feed them and Bea tortures them with doll clothes and baby strollers ("Mom, what does it mean when a cat says "Hissssssss!!!?"). It's going to be hard next week when I have to take them to their adoptive homes. But the Cat Lady has promised me 5 month old kittens as replacements. I'm sure we'll find a way to love them too.