The Electrician’s little brother and his lovely girlfriend adopted a kitten yesterday. He is a striped creamsicle kitty, orange tabby with a white belly and toes, and they’ve named him Alfred. Maybe we’ll see if I can feature him for a Mammal Monday post some day soon. Wee Alfred is the final touch on their new condo, and now their house is truly “home.”
In the photocopy room this afternoon, one of the office ladies said, “So, we have a fourth cat now,” in much the same way a person says, “So, the doctor thinks we need to biopsy that mole,” or “So, he finally kissed me, and it felt like a close encounter with a golden retriever.” This sweet lady has a collection of much loved cats who are formerly homeless or unwanted; one was the baby of a pregnant stray who turned up at her son’s workplace, another a trouble-making redheaded fellow who was supposed to be a temporary houseguest but simply never left. I stopped by her desk after my copies were finished to see a photo of the new kid with her tiny paws on the edge of a wicker basket, and her big kitten eyes open wide in her grey striped face.
This newest baby, teeny though she is, showed up in my friend’s garage. No one knows how she got there, but she was all alone and scared. Because she seemed well-fed, the most likely scenario involves the last person who was supposed to love her getting tired of her kitten antics, or being unwilling to pay her vet costs, and deciding to abandon her. Luckily, she ended up in the garage of a kind family with big hearts, so the little grey girl’s future looks bright.
Two new kittens in two days. Oy. Somewhere slightly north of my ovaries, I get a twing! whenever I see a photo of a beautiful mammal, and I start thinking that maybe the dollhouse isn’t that small after all, and maybe I should provide a home for a sweet baby who has nowhere to go. Names for a new friend start running through my head, and I imagine my happy little furball family with one more member to love. It really wouldn’t cost much more to buy kibble for one more cat. Leroy would love to have a cat buddy to snuggle with, without a doubt, and I…
WAIT. Wait. Hold on, Kay. Get yourself together! I stared down thirty-six teenagers at once this morning, and every one of them did what I asked, but a teeny mammal gets me turned all sideways? That’s the problem with having a big gooey heart: I see a sweet creature and I want one for myself. The same thing happens with chocolate cupcakes. It’s trouble either way.
The Electrician is allergic to cats. He’s also allergic to dogs, and while he looks handsome in red, he doesn’t need to wear it in his eyeballs. I don’t need another mammal in my wee house, any more poop to scoop out of the cat box, or another kitten to train out of biting feet or clawing the furniture. Pet hair already drifts around the dollhouse like tumbleweeds in a Clint Eastwood film.
See, the voice of reason saves the day. I will not, I will not take in another kitty.
Unless someone happens to have a black one with no where to go.
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