Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond (birdhousefrog) wrote,
Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond

Kitten Attack

We have been thinking about a replacement for Mrs. Gaines. Just thinking, mind you. There was a possible in NC who would bring a cat to us here in VA. Miss E was looking for a cat that was about 5 years old, a girl cat. I had also contacted the shelter Goliath came from, one we donate to. She wrote back and asked if we could come to their Sat afternoon Petco adoption this week.

So Miss E and I went to Leesburg this afternoon. Cindy was up to her ears in kittens, 4 months old or upwards. They had been rescued from a McDonalds where a whole colony lived. The adults (feral) were trapped, neutered, and released. The kittens were trapped to be socialized and because they were essentially starving.

Cindy even had a dead ringer for Mrs. G. (Cindy has a copy of E's book, cause, like, Goliath is in it.) She showed that kitten and another one to Miss E. Neither appealed to her. Neither stayed on her lap. And then Miss E pointed out what was clearly the runt of some litter. A teensy weensy little thing that won't be able to hold even half a thought at any given moment in her pea brain. A dusky gray and orange thing that only a mother could love. This is not going to be a handsome adult cat. I tried to point out the torbie, the calicoes, the striped, even the solid black ones. No dice. Eloise held this little thing that had just been spayed the day before and it held her back. Her cat called her. And I knew that was that.

But of course, that got me thinking. Goliath and PD are 13 and 12. Thomas may be 5.5, but he's as big as a house. This kitten would be squished by the sumo wrestler and the other two wouldn't know what to make of it. There was a litter mate, a sister. A little pale blonde thing that has classic tabby markings. They'll fade, of course. I know that. But Cindy said it was the spitting image of the cat she named her shelter for, Casey.

So I sent for The Dude and Maralton, but frankly, the die was cast.

The Dude had a serious conversation with me on the way to Petco. With one cat, you have a cat. If you have two cats you like cats. If you have three cats, you REALLY like cats. Four is a cat fanatic and people start looking at you strangely. 'But we live on 10 acres so it's not so bad,' I reminded him. He continued...Six? Six cats? Six cats is off the scale, unless you live in a doublewide in Arizona. 'But Dancinghorse has 5 cats,' I said. And he just looked at me and shook his head and muttered something about cat ladies who write genre fiction.

It's usually The Dude who lobbies for a new cat. Really. That I've lobbied for the last 3 is sort of out of character. But I had my reasons for having two kittens of the same age. And I think my reasons were sound. They're currently owning Miss E's bedroom and I think they're happy together. We won't introduce the other cats for several days or weeks, depending on reactions. (Goliath already knows there's something in Miss E's bedroom.)

Two girl kittens and please, could at least one of you be a mouser? Pretty please?

Introducing (ta-da!) Shy Ozzie and Doodledorf Casey all the way under Miss E's bed. I sort of had to point and shoot and hope I caught something with the flash.

We wanted to be sure the world could distinguish *this* female Ozzie from the other one, who is definitely NOT shy. Most of the time.

Doodledorf Casey by herself. Doodledorf is a corruption of the name for our most wonderful mouser Braggledorf. But Doodledorf is more feminine. It's a great name for calling a cat to come home, btw.

Shy Ozzie showing off markings only a mother cat could love. Or Miss E.

Hey. Humanz. Go away. We're sleepy. (Wait until 3 am, k?)

You done now? KTHXBI.
Tags: kittenz

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