Aug 26, 2008 08:51
A few weeks ago CR and I glanced out the kitchen door and saw a grey mother cat and some kittens playing in our back garden. We watched them for a bit and decided that they were probably strays in search of a decent meal.
You never know when the right cat will come your way, and as a precaution we had already invested in a small bag of "gourmet" kibble should the occasion arise. The mother cat was wary of us and all the kittens dashed into the flower beds to hide, but we simply put out some kibble onto the brick path and went back into the house to watch. The mother and one of the babies came out and ate, while the other two little fraidy-cats stayed hidden among the Shasta Daisys and Asters by the garage.
Eventually the mother and one of the kittens wandered away, leaving behind the two fraidy-kitties. CR and I saw this as our chance and went out to try to round them up.
HA!
The moment I reached into the bushes one of them took off as fast as his little legs could carry him. I gave chase but to no avail. We decided to have a better plan of attack for the other one still cowering in the scrub. CR got a giant Rubbermaid container that we thought might come in handy, and I donned a pair of heavy duty gardening gloves, in case the kitten decided to eat me alive when I picked it up.
Not that I ever touched it, because as soon as I reached for it, it shot off like it had rockets on its feet. Bless. It went under the deck and I went in after it, then it dashed around the wheelbarrel and went several ways at once, like a little furry black pinball ricocheting all over the garden. I never stood a chance and had myself a good cry because I was SO SURE that those two little black'n'white kitties would be ours. We'd already decided to name them Shaft and Chef, after the late, great Isaac Hayes, whom had passed away that day.
What weighed heaviest on our conscience though was that we feared we had separated the family and that the two little fraidy b&w kitties wouldn't find their mother and would starve or get killed.
We fretted about it for a week and went outside every morning and evening looking for them, and yesterday morning we were ecstatic to see the entire family playing in the bushes and on the front porch of a neighbor's house.
So now the quandry - could the mother and kittens actually live at that house? Surely not - the mother acts very wary and skittish, and the kittens are little wildcats. The house is a duplex, and the people who live in one half of the house already have a cat (his name is Big Boy and he visits us regularly for belly-rubs) and the other couple don't seem to have any pets, but I could be wrong. Next time I see them I am going to ask though, because those kitties should be ours!
Last night we were in bed when CR heard a noise on the deck and our security light switched on. He got up to look and lo and behold, there were two of the kittens having a whale of a time on the patio table, chairs and in potted plants. They were frolicking and jumping all over everything! CR and I took the screen out of the bedroom window for a better look and watched them for a long time. Too long. I think CR said he finally went to bed around 2:30 a.m.
And when we got up this morning, they were still there on the deck, some napping, some playing, and the mother sitting on the steps keeping a watchful eye on them. We put out some more food for them...
WANT!