It's been over two months since we found Rosie and Moon. Those are the kittens. They used to be named Black and Moon until Andrew found out that Black was a girl. "You can't name a girl Black," he said. So he changed her name to Rosie. Rosie is black and white.
Since that time we've often laughed about our "free" kittens. After buying collars, bowls, cat wipes, food, treats, toys, and a house, our free kittens are beginning to look like the world's greatest con artists.
But we sure do love 'em.
They practically live in our cherry laurel tree right outside the breakfast nook, watching for squirrels and cardinals to chase. The boys chase them and run with them. And there's really not much better in this world than scratching the belly of a cat.
Yep, Moon and Rosie have become pretty standard fixtures around the house.
That's not to say that free kittens don't need defending. I'm allergic to cats, so ours are outdoor pets. They live in their cozy home on the back porch, but, from time to time, the country life calls for a small bit of violence.
Just two weeks ago I smote a possum with an aluminum baseball bat that was harassing Rosie. (At the time, she was still Black.)
Not only that, but all manner of animals venture onto the back porch to eat their food. Of particular note is a neighborhood cat that is particularly drawn to Purina Kitten Chow. This gray cat, called Tom for short, keeps eating our kittens' food. I have nothing against Tom; I am sure he is quite a good fellow, but my cats whine at night because he has eaten all of the Kitten Chow.
So over the last week or so we've chased Tom off several times.
Three days ago I had an idea. "Water," I told JB. "Cats hate water. I'll fill up a glass with water, and when Tom strolls up on the porch, I'll douse him."
Perfect plan.
Today I came home from work and changed clothes. I was on the couch, barefoot, when Tom came on the porch. JB filled up a glass and pointed me toward the back door.
Tom heard me coming.
I bolted across the yard, flinging water, trying desperately to stave off starvation for Moon and Rosie.
By the time I got back to the porch, my feet were on fire.
In my excitement to sop Tom, I ran—barefoot, mind you—through a bed of fire ants. And a sticker patch.
JB spent the next ten minutes apologizing and doling out home remedies for stickers and fire ant bites (rubbing alcohol, bleach, WD-40).
There's no such thing as free kittens.
6 comments:
That is great!
Smote.
This is a great time to buy a super soaker... sniping from a crack in the door is much more satisfying than the flailing commando stuff.
I wouldn't have pictured you as the torturing small animals type. I thought you were more of the "feed the hungry" type.
That was awesome.
I had to read this to my mom and we both got a great laugh out of it! We've had many "free cats" over the years as well. And my mom fondly recalls beating a neighbor's dog with a stick because it had scooped my kitten in its mouth.
Try hydrocortisone cream for the ant bites.
sounds like it's time for the red rider to come into the bezner household. nothing like poppin' an old tom right in the behind to keep him from coming back.
I have three mutt dogs, two older and one four-month-old pup. I'm a sucker for an animal in need, though my house is full. My Reveille and my Sully have cost me a fortune, though I constantly remind myself that they were given to me for a reason if for no other than because I can take care of them. Animals bring joy to our lives — and a lot of expense, but it's worth it. Enjoy your new family members :)
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