Lady of Leisure Log, Day 2 of Kitty Krusade.

I've been a kitten foster-mom for 2 nights now and already, I'm experiencing parent anxiety. Last night, one of the kittens scaled his prison and got his tiny head stuck in a gap of his folding pen. BECAUSE I DIDN'T TIE DOWN ALL SIDES OF THE PEN. Which, by the way, did not take away from my stress levels while watching Walking Dead--I mean, I would love for one single episode where no one dies, but not holding my breath. I digress.

Sure, the little guy was none the worse and in fact, showed no indication of learning his lesson as he immediately scaled the other side, looking for another chink in his pen, once I released his tiny head. But the guilt, oh the guilt stays with you. I got into bed last night and lay there for what seemed like hours (and was probably a single hour), wondering if the kittens were okay and if I should sleep in the lounge in case something else went awry. It was only imagining Mr Findingmoxie's ridicule that kept me from launching myself  into the other room, pillow in hand. It's a terrible and a beautiful thing when you're responsible for tiny lives. That much is clear to me.

However, this morning began quietly. I started the day with a much anticipated feeding, both for myself and the little darlings. Seeing the kitties settled into a post-brekkie snooze, I risked a peaceful hour of yoga. I'd been looking forward to this, not just because of the much needed zen, but because I was desperately curious to see how the Wild Bunch would enjoy my yoga accompaniment. That's right, I wondered how their tiny ears would react to some serious opera, Maria Callas to be exact. Opera helps me dis-spell the white noise and if I'm doing it right, I feel like I'm soaring with the high notes. Turns out, the kittens were more interested in my contortions than in the tunes. Don't know if I did myself any favors--they already think I'm not entirely to be trusted.

Despite that, afternoon cuddles went really well and I even got two kittens purring! Definite result. And besides that, I came up with the exact literary source for their names. The same kitten that caught his head in the pen is my little rascal, an explorer, the first to venture forward either in eating or in play. While watching him try to single-pawedly annihilate the three pronged feather and ball toy while all his kitten sibs gave up to nap-time, I knew. He was Scout. And so a theme was born. I have myself a Scout, a Jem,  a Dill, an Atticus, a Calpurnia and a Boo Radley. Just call me Harper Lee, kids, because I've got me To Kill a Mockingbird.

Let me introduce to you:

Atticus, sitting court. [Bah-da-dum.] Look at his majestic chops and wise eyes. 

Jem and Scout scrabbling away. Scout, biggest tomboy, picking fights with all and sundry. Jem not too far behind.

White-chested Boo Radley, easily spooked and keeping to the shadows. Calpurnia, sleeping soundly--unless that is, you stick your hand in the pen too quickly, and then it's a HISS, because she protects her home. 

And finally, sweet, adorable Dill, who seems to cry uncle more than any of the others. 

We're so on our way, dear readers.