There's a yowl of protest from the dining room as I'm trying to organize the evening feeding. When I look, I see the little dachshund with the the kitten by the neck and pulling violently. The small brown dog has one of her hindquarters in her mouth and is tugging just as violently but in the opposite direction. Before I can intervene, the kitten breaks free and delivers a sharp smack to each dog before executing a lightning fast 180 degree turn and gaining the kitchen counter in one hair raising maneuver. The whole thing takes no more than a few seconds but it's still pretty impressive little drama. The kitten is unharmed - as usual - although she does give me a disapproving look and feeling guilty, I give her an extra portion of 9 Lives and shrug off the vague suspicion that I've been had.
Less than an hour later, the botched drawn and quartering is a lost memory and both dogs are sleeping peacefully with the kitten contentedly snuggled up against the little dachshund's belly. The part of me that so loves romantic notions thinks I might be witnessing a lesson in forgiveness but the rational side knows it's no more than feline forgetfulness. I find myself envying her natural ability to move on and not hold a grudge. It's a process I myself am still working on.
At a year and a half, the kitten is the youngest and the most filled with energy and mischief. Although in this particular incident she's blameless, it's a rarity that she's not the eye of the storm, churning up her own chaos and bringing it down on her own head. She's a great trial to the older cats but the vast majority of the troubles she gets into are self-inflicted. It's hard to understand how such a small, short legged little feline can bring about such mayhem. But then I think of the human equation and how much drama we manufacture on our own.
The entire scene is reenacted at breakfast the following morning but this time after she breaks free, she darts under a free standing corner cabinet and is immediately trapped between a rock and a hard place. The dogs can't reach her but by the same token, she can't get past them. The standoff continues until I fill the dogs' dishes and they decide they'd rather have full bellies than keep on with the game. With them safely preoccupied, she slinks out from under the cabinet and makes a swift but discreet run for the counter where she skids to a stop, sending her own food bowl over the edge and glaring at me as if it's my fault.
What goes around, comes around, I tell her philosophically as I retrieve her food dish, Remind me to explain to you about karma.
She ignores me and cleans her plate then starts on her paws and whiskers.
Trust me, I say, You can be as innocent as the driven snow and still end up in a world of hurt.
She gives me her best put upon expression but I am stoic. I am unmoved. I am the grown up in this situation and it takes a full five minutes before I scrape what the other cats didn't eat onto her plate. Naturally, it's too little, too late. She pretends not to notice, jumps from the counter and makes a dignified exit.
Later that same day, my words come back to haunt me. Driving down a secondary road that features ditches as opposed to sidewalks or curbs, a shiny black SUV suddenly veers directly at me. There's no time to do anything but react - I lay on the horn and swerve violently, risking life, limb and the ditch - the SUV driver misses me and roars indifferently off. Somehow I manage to pull back onto the pavement but one tire is demolished and another, though I don't know it at the time, is punctured and develops a slow leak. It's an incredibly close near miss and I'm too shaken to do much except curse as viciously as I know how. Then I get a grip, offer up a small thank you prayer that it's only a tire, and ride the rim back to the service station.
All things truly wicked start from innocence ~ Ernest Hemingway
At a year and a half, the kitten is the youngest and the most filled with energy and mischief. Although in this particular incident she's blameless, it's a rarity that she's not the eye of the storm, churning up her own chaos and bringing it down on her own head. She's a great trial to the older cats but the vast majority of the troubles she gets into are self-inflicted. It's hard to understand how such a small, short legged little feline can bring about such mayhem. But then I think of the human equation and how much drama we manufacture on our own.
The entire scene is reenacted at breakfast the following morning but this time after she breaks free, she darts under a free standing corner cabinet and is immediately trapped between a rock and a hard place. The dogs can't reach her but by the same token, she can't get past them. The standoff continues until I fill the dogs' dishes and they decide they'd rather have full bellies than keep on with the game. With them safely preoccupied, she slinks out from under the cabinet and makes a swift but discreet run for the counter where she skids to a stop, sending her own food bowl over the edge and glaring at me as if it's my fault.
What goes around, comes around, I tell her philosophically as I retrieve her food dish, Remind me to explain to you about karma.
She ignores me and cleans her plate then starts on her paws and whiskers.
Trust me, I say, You can be as innocent as the driven snow and still end up in a world of hurt.
She gives me her best put upon expression but I am stoic. I am unmoved. I am the grown up in this situation and it takes a full five minutes before I scrape what the other cats didn't eat onto her plate. Naturally, it's too little, too late. She pretends not to notice, jumps from the counter and makes a dignified exit.
Later that same day, my words come back to haunt me. Driving down a secondary road that features ditches as opposed to sidewalks or curbs, a shiny black SUV suddenly veers directly at me. There's no time to do anything but react - I lay on the horn and swerve violently, risking life, limb and the ditch - the SUV driver misses me and roars indifferently off. Somehow I manage to pull back onto the pavement but one tire is demolished and another, though I don't know it at the time, is punctured and develops a slow leak. It's an incredibly close near miss and I'm too shaken to do much except curse as viciously as I know how. Then I get a grip, offer up a small thank you prayer that it's only a tire, and ride the rim back to the service station.
All things truly wicked start from innocence ~ Ernest Hemingway
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