In the two maybe three seconds it took for me to turn my back to reach for the mustard, the new kitten had sunk her tiny teeth into the unfinished salami sandwich and was in travelin' mode, dragging it backwards across the counter despite its weight and the fact that it was nearly half her size.
Disengage! I cried in alarm and she glared at me - very kittenesque - and when I reached for it, she gave a small, plaintive meow and actually hung on. I couldn't help but laugh at this one-sided contest and when the sandwich was finally free, I relented at her disappointed (and mad) little face and gave her a kitten-sized bite.
She trotted off so proudly I wasn't sure who had actually won. I poured a glass of milk and turned with it and sandwich in hand only to stumble over the three dogs/witnesses. I managed to save the milk but the poor salami never had a chance.
Dear Lord, I often think, give me patience.
I suppose the real trick is not to pray for a better life but rather the strength to endure and appreciate the one you have.
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As if she were leading a cavalry charge, the kitten comes from nowhere, racing at full speed across the kitchen floor. She clears one sleeping cat without breaking a sweat, side swipes a second which causes a brief flare up
and a nasty word or two, gains the coffee table easily and then with a determined kitten war whoop, flings her little self on top of the sleeping and unsuspecting small brown dog. The dog yelps - unhurt but scared half to death - and immediately burrows into my side for protection, trembling and whimpering. While I reassure her, the kitten moves on to the little dachshund - she pounces ferociously on his feathery tail and he whips around, pinning her down with one shaggy paw - she gives an indignant squeak of protest but she's nailed and she knows it.
What goes around, comes around, I tell her without much sympathy, Grin and bear it.
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You'd think after living with cats all these years, I'd have learned to recognize a set up.
Reaching down to retrieve a stray sock from the floor, I'm completely unprepared for the new kitten to erupt from under the bed and with a pigeon-like attack trill, leap and fasten herself around my wrist. Caught entirely off guard, I jump in surprise and mutter a mild curse - it takes several seconds to peel her off - and I let her think it's her idea when she finally lets go and darts back under the bed, readying herself, I suspect, for the next passerby. From where she's lying in the doorway, the black dog watches this intently and after a moment or two, she crawls in the direction of the bed and cautiously pokes her nose under the bedspread. An instant later, a tiny gray paw appears and gives her a smart smack on the nose - she yelps, then growls, then tries her best to force her way under the bed, receiving a second swat for her trouble. The kitten takes full advantage of her confusion and scrambles out the other side before she can free herself.
I'm still searching for the other sock.
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On a damp and chilly November morning, the kitten navigates like Magellan - from the floor to the bed in back of me, then a confident jump to my left shoulder, and finally into my lap - where she settles contentedly and begins to purr. Rather than stay settled however, she is soon randomly reaching one small paw toward the keyboard and snagging my sleeve with her nails in an effort to distract me. A kitten in search of attention is impossible to ignore - she's three pounds of persistence - and besides being bold as brass and fearless, this little one has a streak of mule in her.
Her other side, though, is sweetness and light. She will just as easily curl up in the curve of the little dachshund's belly and fall fast asleep as charge him like some runaway whirling dervish. And there's barely a whisper of protest when all three dogs fall onto her and play tug of war with her tail and ears as if she's just the best pull toy they've ever had. She can rough and tumble with the best of them and then this afternoon, at her second vet visit - despite the unfamiliar environment, the noise, the smells - she was so relaxed she fell asleep while we were waiting.
At the foot of the couch, the kitten nestles in her new blanket and sleeps peacefully in the afternoon sunlight.
When the little dachshund jumps up to join her, she barely stirs - even when he sighs and lays his head across her small body, all she can manage is a sleepy look - and in just a few seconds, both are asleep. By bedtime, he will be his usual calm, sweet self but she will be well rested and ready to take on the world.
To me, nothing says home like a slightly schizophrenic kitten.
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