Dear
furry mom,
“Do
you want two gray kittens?” This
all we heard for six months. Our
new Mom was so proud of us she posted our pictures EVERYWHERE. We were STARS on every
bulletin board
at vet’s offices in the surrounding eight counties.
That
stormy day we were separated from you, must have been as traumatic for you, as
it was for us. I am reminded of
that day, because Mom II named us, Stormy and Twister.
The
day we were separated, we were just having fun splashing in that old dirty cold
puddle. Next, we were carried away
in a box. We cried for you for
hours but you must not have heard us.
We were taken to a
foster home, where
Mom II took care of us for twelve weeks.
There were quite a few of us in the house, a few hanging outside as
well. I didn’t know the ages of
all the cats, but I believe they must have been between one hundred years old,
or somewhere close to that age, because they spent at least 22 hours a day
sleeping.
A
game we played with some of the younger cats was, “Dead and Seek,” and I was
usually the “seek.” Most of the
time I changed roles to “dead” because I did not want to be mistaken me for a
mouse.
“Sissies,
where are you?” Mom would call out
to us - She thought we were girls until the vet told her we were boys. She continued
to call us Sissies and we
spent a great deal of time and effort proving differently.
The best place at the
foster home was on
Mom’s bed. It was most annoying
when she moved in the middle of the night. There were at least five of us on the bed competing for the
warmest spot -usually on top of Mom - and we would have to rearrange ourselves
accordingly.
We
liked to help Mom around the house.
When she went to the refrigerator, we jumped right in to sniff out the
food - heaven forbid if any leftovers had spoiled.
Mom aged quickly during
our
stay. She started to get a shuffle
in her walk. A couple of times
when she tried to act young she stepped on us so I am glad when she decided to
stay old.
To
get a cat’s eye view of things we learned to jump very high - especially on the
counters when mom was cooking our favorite meat loaf. We would often be drizzled with a spray bottle. I’ll never know
how Mom managed to stay
dry.
We
noticed mom didn’t stay in one place to eat but rather walked around from room
to room carrying her feeding bowl with her over her head. When I noticed Mom loosing
some weight,
I tried to remind her to sit in one place and share the food with us. I believe she
should have included us
more in her meals. I think her
problem was, she needed some more socialization and whisker rubbing.
Because
it was near Christmas, Mom sang the song, “Santa Clause is coming to Town,”
over and over again. I can still
remember the lyrics – “You better watch out; you better not pout.” My
favorite part was “He knows when you
are sleeping,” she pronounced
"Sweepy" (love
that part). Once, in the car, she
sang if for forty minutes straight - you think her voice would have gone
horse.
We would sing in harmony with her.
“He knows when you are sleeping
“Mew”
He knows when you’re awake”
“Mew,” “Mew”
“He knows if you’ve been bad or good
“Meow”
“So be good for goodness sakes.”
“Meow” “Meow”
“So you’d better….
“Meow”…
Unlike
us, Panda, the resident brat cat, was a little off key and never knew where to
add the “Mews”,“Mew Mew’s” or “mows”.
Because
of the lesson we learned from that song, we respected Mom’s wishes and slept
whenever she went to the store. I
think if we pouted or cried she might have reported us to Santa Clause.
I
disproved Mom’s opinion that we were “good kitties.” One day, my brother was locked out on the porch and I was
bored. All the other old folks in
the house were snoozing, as usual, and I was having a grand old time: thinning
out the leaves off the artificial ivy plant, jumping on the computer, knocking
things over and catching ripples in mom’s glass of water with my paws. I got
more bored and knock down her
files labeled, “Important Stories Working On.” Then I made a running jump and attacked the pile of papers
on the floor. They went flying in
10,000 directions. Then, I
rearrange her 2 X 4 character, plot, and setting cards. It was shortly after that
we got our
new nickname “Brats.” Locked out
on the porch all this time Twister was in his own misery.
The
dryer was the best place in the house to hide and I don’t understand why mom
would not let us sleep in there.
Whenever she put clothes in it or took them out, I heard her call to
us. If she didn’t want us in the
dryer, why did she summon us? I’ll
never understand humans. Do they
want us in or do they want us out?
We
pretty much had that litter box thing under control. After graduating from the playpen, we had full run off the
house. It was a long way to the
litter boxes and sometimes we would forget where the toilets were when we get
busy playing. But Mom finally
caught on and she placed kitty commodes in places that were more convenient, so
that we were never being a few steps away from a toilet. She had to make leaps from
one spot to
another, over several litter boxes, just to get to our food bowl – unfortunate
for her. Unfortunate for us, this
delayed are dinner.
We
learned computer etiquette very early.
There is a narrow spot between the monitor and the keyboard that seems
to be an OK cat zone. The problem
came when one of our other sisters tried to occupy it. One day when we started to
wrestle in
this “sacred zone,” she used language that we were not familiar with - that
tone of voice she used was quite rude.
To
frustrate things further there is the mouse thing connected to the computer
that we were not allowed to play with.
She always has her hand on it - selfish of her not to share. Maybe I
should have reported her to the, Inhumane Society, and see how she liked it
when all her toys were taken from her.
Shortly
after that, we got a new name, “Little Monsters.”
The
day we left Mom put us each in a separate carrier with one of her smelly
shirts. We left all our toys and
good smelling places our friends and some not so good friends. She was
especially quiet that day - No singing.
When we got to our new place I did notice however, she spoke to other
humans in her “social voice,” which was a few octaves above normal. And
her “sad voice” which was few
decibels below her “social voice,” which makes it sound perfectly normal to
humans. But we felt true feelings
behind her words.
“Hoe
hum yawn.” I am getting sleepy,
“sweepy” as mom would have said. I
was not concerned about being left at the new place as concerned about not
being fed properly. I must admit
it was nice to be able to sit down and eat a meal without mom for a change, who
hogs up most of the good stuff.
Its bedtime here at
the new place and
there are two moms in the same bed here.
One has a hairy chest and the other all soft and pinks like my mom. We had
a ho hum meal last night and
waited until midnight, but mom never returned. Well, if she does not come back soon, I think we will just
stay – here we have more kids our age and more spaces to explore. That tall
tree in the middle of the
enclosed cat area looks especially enticing.
The
phone rang the other night and I recognized my mom’s voice. It kind of hurt
my feeling that she
didn’t ask to talk to us, but we were in the middle of walking away
nonchalantly from one of the resident monsters - who thinks he owns the place
and growls ever time we make a move.
If I had a chance I would have purred to her, “I still love you.”
I
hear you have a new family now so probably do not worry as much about us, but
just incase you were wondering what happened since that stormy day in July -
that’s the whole scoop.
Your loving son,
Stormy speaking in behalf of Twister as well.