Without-Feathers.com

I Can Has Kittens?

November 18, 2008
Animals

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Sometimes the universe tries to give you a hint about something. Like, say, you get laid off just when you were thinking about switching jobs. Or you’re on the fence about that great-but-expensive pair of shoes, and then they go on sale the next day. Or you were kind of getting bored in your marriage and thinking about getting a divorce or something, and then he gets carried off by a golden eagle and you’re a swingin’ single again, no paperwork required.

Or the universe decides you need another cat, and so a pair of stray kittens appear outside your apartment. And you say no, I already have a cat. And the universe says Romy, you need another. And you say NO, I don’t and contact all your friends to see who will take them, and nobody can. And the universe says SERIOUSLY ROMY. Chris Walken just showed up, and he says he has a fever and the only prescription is MORE CATBELL. And you say NO NO NO and try to get in touch with your favorite rescue service, but nobody answers the phone and nobody returns your calls and it’s been almost a week and now the kittens think you’re their mom and you kind of think you are, too. And you think …damn. And the universe is all LULZ PWNED.

Or maybe that only happens to me.

But the universe is not getting away with this scot-free, since I really cannot have three cats in one apartment. Thank goodness for Tony’s parents, who he bullied/coaxed into taking the bigger kitten — conditional upon us paying all vet bills for both their new kitten and their current cat, whose shots need to be updated.

(Hmm. I just opened up the dictionary to the S section, and this is weird — there’s a picture of Tony and me right next to the word “sucker”. How did that get there?)

The smaller kitten (the one we’re keeping) is sick right now — some kind of respiratory infection, because hanging around in car engines is apparently rotten for your lungs, WHO KNEW, guess I will not be doing that anymore — but she is so, so sweet that we just can’t resist her, even with the looming vet bills. You can squirt an entire syringeful of medicine down her tiny throat, and afterwards she just gazes up at you with eyes full of trust and forgiveness, eyes that say: I know you did that for my own good, because you love me. I love you too, friendly biped. Now may I please curl up in the palm of your hand and go to sleep with my chin on your thumb, dreaming of rainbows and butterflies?.

Do you hear that dripping sound? That is the sound of my frozen heart melting. MELTING, people.

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