What’s more interesting:
Today’s riveting lip color in Curviest Caramel
or my foster kitten?
She gotses a cold! And if you’d been around me all weekend, you too could have heard JUNE’S ASSHOLE KITTEN VOICE!
Shelter kittens get upper respiratory infections a lot lot lot, so I’m not surprised she has one, and I left a message AND an email with the shelter, to see if I need to bring her in.
It hasn’t broken her spirit, and let me tell you just how much it hasn’t. One thing they want you to do is keep your shelter fosters separate from your regularly scheduled cats, so no one makes the other sick. And I was down with that plan. In fact, when I brought her in in her carrier, my pets didn’t even notice anything was up.
And at one point, I was bringing something in the kitten’s room and caught stupid-ass Iris wandering in in the 14 seconds I had the door open, and the best part was she walked right by the kitten and didn’t notice.
Limited-vision cats. They’re good for something.
So everything was copacetic: Jodie Foster was good in her bedroom/walk-in closet combo, and the regular cats were oblivious.
Until they weren’t. And what a surprise that Steely Dick was the first to catch on.
I still didn’t let them meet, but when all the big cats went outside–and I just made them sound like pumas or something–I let the kitten come out just for a minute. I figured it’d be good for her to meet a dog, so if she moves in with one, she’ll be cool.
She loved her little adventure, and all was right in the land. And seeing as I’d pretty much spent every second with her all weekend except for ANOTHERRE PURRE BARRE CLASSE Sunday morning, I went to the new Woody Allen movie yesterday afternoon. The theater is literally five minutes away, so I was gone less than two hours.
And when I came home?
There she was. On the back of the couch with everyone else.
THERE SHE WAS.
Clearly, I have no control over my cats.
“Oh my GOD!” I said, horrified. Her door was SHUT. Had I let her slip out when I left? I was certain I hadn’t. Had been paranoid AF about her slipping past me.
I mean, she was just on the back of the couch, all casual. Steely Dan was loftily lounging on Edsel’s bed (“Edsel’s bed.” Who we kidding at this point?), Edsel was on the couch right near the kitten, and Lily and Iris were splayed in the dining room, as you do.
Like, NO ONE CARED that there was a little sprite in their midst. I guess at this point, my pets are new-petted out. Still. That could have been a disaster.
Shaken, I put her back in the room and shut the door.
I was in the kitchen feeding everyone moments later, when I turned around and
THERE SHE WAS
in that window in my kitchen, the one that leads to the back room. oh, hai. again.
And right then I knew. She was crawling out from under the door.
So all my cats are gonna have colds now. Hey, whose bright idea was this, anyway, this kitten-fostering thing? I blame Sue.
I’m just glad Steely Dan is nicer than he seems. Maybe Edsel made sure Jodie Foster was okay. I don’t know.
It reminds me of the Tallulah and Francis days.
Francis was SO MEAN to Tallulah from DAY ONE that Lu didn’t dare even LOOK at Fran throughout their whole lives. That cat put the fear in that dog from puppyhood. I remember Francis slap-slap-slapping puppy Tallulah’s snout, claws out, three times in a row.
The point is, we’d had years of Lu acquiesing to Francis when I finally got kitten Henry. One day Henry, who was teensy then, toddled his orange self right near cranky old Francis, who at that point never did anything but mince off his angry chair and to his litter box. But Henry got himself in that path.
Anyway, Francis hissed, and sucked his hiss back in and hissed again, fangs bared. Henry was in big trouble. But TALLULAH ran back there, barking, got OVER Henry, just stood over him, and growled right in that mean cat’s face.
I can’t imagine how terrified Lu musta been underneath her pit growl.
Francis minced back to his angry chair without another word.
Anyway, fostering kittens is fun. Is my point. And a bit chaotic. Is my other point.
If anyone local is looking for a lively, smart, make-bicuits-in-your-hair kitten, I got one going begging.
Talk to you later. Oh! And if you’re gonna wrap up your Christmas shopping, let me assist you with a link to get to Amazon. (Oh my god, she actually remembered. She has the biggest shopping time of the year and forgets all month. June: money-making machine.)
Ima buy these for myself today, because whose bright idea was it to put the computer back in a drafty room that used to be a screened-in porch? A room with a tile floor? A room I have to go in every morning half-naked so I can write? Hmmmm? Whose idea was it?
And who ordered all these pets?
[Looks around. Sees no one else. Shit.]
June the excellent kitten foster, and creator of an un-chaotic life