Episode IV: How I came to run a cat-house

Kitty bowling

Remember that old saying, "No good deed ever goes unpunished?" Bear it in mind as I tell you how it is that I came to run a cat-house.

Once upon a time, a little cat wandered onto my front porch. She was starving. She was thirsty. She was pregnant. I took her in. She promptly delivered a litter of five.

She did it so fast she didn't get a chance to get to know and love Hobbes and Patches, my previous rescuees, before she became a mama. And, once the hormones kicked it, she became Uber-Mama and began to kick ass. Technically, she began to bite and scratch ass, but however you look at it, she terrorized Hobbes and Patches with her Tasmanian devil impersonation so thoroughly that Patches now glowers from the craft room and Hobbes has removed himself to the garage.

Once her kittens became mobile, they joined in the fun of Hobbes and Patches baiting.

Patches, backing away from Tiger- who is only one-sixth her weight. Terrifying!

Scampers and Fluffenella- off the drapes for a change.

I used to have drapes.

I used to have carpeting in my bedroom.

I used to have moments of quiet and calm.

Wide world of wrestling championship, kitten-weight division.

Now, I have furry furniture, Airwicks in every room, a bottle of Febreze on every flat surface, and legs that look like I shaved with a chain saw thanks to kitty claws.

I was able to find homes for three of the kittens, but it turns out that kittens are a lot like kids. They leave, but then they come back. It happened like this. The time had come for Binx (mama) and her three sons (Hiro, Scampers and Tiger) to be rendered reproductively incapable. The boys were also due for front claw declawing. (The girls will have their turn in about three weeks). Scampers had a hernia that required repair. It just seemed logical to me that Becca and Yvonne should bring their kitties to my house so that I could take all the cats to the vet at one time and get it over with in one fell swoop.

And so the babies came to Grandma's for a visit. It was a joyous reunion for the kitties! Hobbes and Patches were less than amused, as was Binx, since the visiting kittens tried to pick up where they had left off and nurse once again for old time's sake. The absence of milk didn't seem to deter them.

When Becca dropped off Tiger, she also brought Miss Pusskins.

She thought the two girl kitties could keep each other company while the boys and Mama were away getting clipped, snipped and made ship-shape. I thought that was kinda cute- a kitty sleep-over. Fluffanella and Pusskins staying up all night, watching TV, meowing into the wee hours of the morning about school and fashion and boys.

This was Wednesday morning. Fluff and Pusskins were no trouble and it was fun having time with Miss Puss again. Funny how you get attached to the little furballs. They, however, still have claws.

Friday morning, bright and early, I went to get Binx and the boys. Everyone seemed to be doing well, even little Scampers whose tummy surgery ended up being a bit more extensive than expected. Home I brought them all for yet another joyous reunion (minus Hobbes and Patches, of course) but this time, I waded in to protect Binx from the milk-sucking horde, as she had just been spayed and didn't need to be kneaded and drained.

Oh, the fun! Oh, the frivolity! Oh, how I wish Sunday would come, for that is when Pusskins, Tiger, and Hiro go back to their respective homes. Yes, we are having a week-end long sleep-over with all five kitties reunited and of one mind, intent on their search and destroy missions, committed to inciting cat fights between their mother and my two beleaguered buddies, and having a great time throwing shredded paper litter at each other.

Hiro is staying to protect him from a small child who is spending the weekend with her grandmother Yvonne. Pusskins and Tiger are staying because the kids are coming into town on Sunday anyway, so they will pick up their babies then.

In the meantime, I just try to stay out of their way and not step on them or shut them in doors. Or refrigerators, for that matter. I am out-numbered 8 to 1. That is WAAAY over the maximum cat density for any home.

Dave is coming home Sunday. I sure hope he can find me under all the cat hair.