Bethany J. Royer
July 3, 2014
Imagine a veterinarian examination room about the size of a closet (Unless you are a Kardashian this image should be very tiny) filled with seven people — five adults and two munchkins. Oh, and two very angry cats. The latter one kitten by the name of Cosmo squawking while the veterinarian clipped his nails (Cause goodness knows he was being tortured, right?) and mother cat Feathertail growling from inside what we all thought was a closed cat carrier.
Then the cat carrier door bursts open and everyone begins to sweat profusely while looking at one another with rounded eyes.
The Jaws theme song played in the background as we waited for the inevitable attack. It was just a question of ankle, knee, or thigh and which person, of course.
I last left you with the great kitten-nabbing at the zombie family home where Feathertail had taken advantage of my trust to hightail it out of the enclosed front porch with her lone surviving kitten Cosmo. How she made the jump from the screen-less window with him to the ground is left only to shaking one’s head. That was a lengthy jump with a healthy size kitten in hand … er … mouth.
The ensuing game of hide and seek left me with the broken-hearted assumption Feathertail had sent her kitten to his inevitable doom via drowning in the neighbor’s pond. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I peeked to that water-scape or how many times I refused Feathertail re-entry onto the front porch.
“Entry is one kitten,” I told Feathertail though it wasn’t her fault, it was mine, and eventually she stretched out on the neighbor’s sidewalk leading to their front porch. Suspicious, Emma and I took turns scavenging their open porch and looking over the edge into the thick bushes hugging the front of the house but came back empty handed.
Good thing my neighbor’s like us for all the trampling over their property we did when they weren’t home.
Anyway, there laid Feathertail, not far from where she gave birth back two months ago now in the neighbor’s landscaping, where and when this adventure had begun. She seemed to be enjoying her childless time in the sun, too, eyes closed, tail lightly flicking side to side, nose pointed towards the sky with what I swear was a smile on her furry face.
If I didn’t know better I’d swear Feathertail was sticking it to me.
Meanwhile, the munchkins with pouty lips and swollen eyes made silent pleads for me to make everything right. Boy, had I seen those faces before, particularly during the losing battle to save three very sick kittens, even after a vet trip and medication. Then it came time for me to leave for work where the entire drive consisted of deriding myself for first leaving the window open on the front porch to ever adopting Feathertail and company (No good deed goes unpunished!) when my cell phone rang.
“We found Cosmo!” Emma screamed as she explained how she had become suspicious when Feathertail ducked into the thick line of bushes hugging the front of the neighbor’s house. The one’s we had kept looking into with no luck.
Curious, Emma had stuck her head into a small hole at one end and saw two little eyes looking back — Cosmo! Hooping and hollering in my ear she tried to coax him out. The commotion had made him nervous and it took some work between two kids and one adult before he finally emerged. After that I was done, smooth transition or not, Feathertail and Cosmo moved indoors. I decided on the spot our current ten year old house cat Kip and nine year old dog Neo would just have to suck it up — as would my allergies. Sure, we’d have to do a lot of patrolling until everyone got used to one another but that was preferred over slowly being driven insane … a process that had only just begun.
Bethany J. Royer is the mother of two munchkins and has a serious case of psychology student senior-it is. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org