First – the cutest thing: I woke up one morning with my 9 week old kitteh sleeping on the back of my neck, IN my hair, and happily. She may have been purring. It was altogether a lovely experience.
Things kittehs play with
And now, other things kitteh loves to play with:
- rubber bands (broken)
- hair bands/ties
- tin foil balls
- pipe cleaners (lots of fun to watch, too)
- little bows
- dust bunnies (not that they are plentiful in my house)
- anyone’s fingers
- my toes (biting, ouch)
- towels on racks that apparently should be on the floor
- bags – any variety
- the air – a pretend friend (i. e. nothing visible – cute!)
- her tail and back paws
- hand bags and contents
- sunglass earpieces (tasty!)
- Chloe, the perfect dog
- just about anything else she encounters.
No cost/low cost entertainment for kitty. Yay!
So. You’ve figured out I’ve adopted one of the four kittens that I had fostered.
Well what was I to do? She GAZED at me! She followed me around. She seemed to think I was a goddess.
I have given her many names – the root name is Grace. That is because, a) a friend suggested “Gracie Lou Freebush” from that movie and, b) … she, the kitten, reminds me very VERY much of Grace … Grace from God. She’s such a gift. Lovely.
Gracie Lou. Gracie Love. Gracie Belly (for her round kitten belly) …
Last but not least, she and Chloe get along wonderfully.
Many pictures to follow!
(The title quote is uncredited because its author is unknown.)
Mom is 83 years old and once again a cat … owner? She had to jump through a few hoops first though.
She lives in a restricted community and one of the restrictions is no cats or dogs. At her own expense she conducted a poll of all the households to see if they would change the rule to allow one indoor cat per household. Alas, the majority did not wish to do so. However, the board of directors made an exception in her case and allowed her to have a cat, proving the “squeaky wheel gets the grease” adage.
So! A couple of months ago Mom adopted a cat from the SPCA in Largo. The SPCA had named him “Brandon” and Mom doesn’t think she should change his name although I don’t think she likes it much. I call him Bran Muffin. Here’s a picture of him:
Isn’t he pretty?! This is only the second time I have seen him. He is a hider. (Maybe he doesn’t like being called “Bran Muffin”. It’s an affectionate name though.) Mom had to trap him in the lanai so that I could see him. She is very disappointed that Bran hides when people come over. I tell her that’s the way he is. This is his life and home now and let him be. She’ll come around to my way of thinking … maybe.
Apparently he is a nice kitty and a good companion for Mom. He sits in her lap and loves to be petted. He talks to her and does funky kitty things that delight her. There are lots of soft places for him to rest on and even more spaces to hide in, and sofa backs to perch on to watch the world go by (we call it the cat version of reading the newspaper), and a warm body to palpate with kneading paws.
There are few things in life that are as satisfying as adopting a pet that has somehow found themselves living in a cage in a shelter, perhaps about to be put down. Then you take this little life in your hand and your heart and tell him/her “You are safe now. I will care for you.” They love you back ten-fold and, to borrow from Martha Stewart – it’s a good thing.