Day 9--Weekend Hijinks

I'm finding it difficult to believe we've only had the kittens for essentially one week. I'm sure Mr Findingmoxie would stress that it feels like FOREVER and I have to say, it does feel like it's been longer than 7 days. Especially when you take into account how much they've changed. When I first leaned into the bars of their pen at the CHAT shelter, 6 pairs of terrified eyes glared wildly back at me, 4 kittens scurried into their cardboard house and 2 stayed to hiss at me. Those kittens wouldn't even come close to a human hand out of choice.

After only a week, my kittens think nothing of a human hand nudging them here or there, scratching behind their ears and for a couple of them, picking up to cuddle briefly. Yes, we're there. But let me backtrack.

So, this weekend began with the usual shyness. Calpurnia and Jem still shied from my hands, Boo Radley wouldn't even hold still for a stroke. Somehow,  he's got this ability to make every sort of stroke seem uncomfortable for him. It doesn't matter what I try--under the chin, on the cheek, back of neck, sides, spine, etc. It reminds me of toddlers when they don't want to be man-handled, they flop into full-on dead weight and go noodley to hamper their parents at every turn. Well, Boo Radley has mastered that, but in kitten form, where every turn of his head makes every potential stroke I might make awkward. Even Atticus would panic if my hand came from above and not from his level. Only Scout was beyond any timidity, although most of that was down to him attempting to Houdini himself out of the pen. Basically, we had our work cut out for ourselves.

I spent a quiet morning, feeding and petting, topped up with the usual string games. It was a really lovely morning actually. Mr Findingmoxie coded for his computer science course, I was all kittens--seriously rapt and gave him peace. What's more, I felt peace myself. I didn't need to chatter or was restless, even though our hardwood floors are NOT comfortable and pins/needles is part and parcel of the foster project. I've always said it, but I'll say it again, cats are good for my soul.

The morning must have also charmed Mr Findingmoxie, because out of the deep dark blue he suggests letting them out of the pen for lounge playtime. Frankly, that's why I love the man. Gruff and not squee-ed by the tiny perfect cuteness of kittens, but inside, he's a giant kitten lover. He just doesn't know it yet. But to be honest, I wasn't sure they were ready. OR that I was ready. What if they hid under the sofa and wouldn't go back into their pen? What if I buckled under the task of getting them back into their pen? Luckily though, Mr Findingmoxie always pushes me to take risks and excel, where I would hold back for fear of failure. To paraphrase Eminem, 'success is my only BLEEP-BLEEPING option, failure's not.' What? There are 6 little ears in this house and we got to keep it clean.

Scout in mid-gambol

We went for it. I opened the pen door, Scout was out in seconds--the little rascal. The others trickled out over 10 minutes, the black kitties being dead last. And oh, how they loved it. There was running at full pelt, jumping tackles and sliding with skittering kitty nails all over our lounge. Under the sofa, round the coffee table, round and round they chased each other. It was hilarious and just exhilarating. Mr Findingmoxie was perched in our giant beanbag, blocking access to the kitchen and I took the time to properly clean out their pen. I made formal introductions between the hoover and the kittens. The kittens did not like it. But hey, NO cat does.

Scout, the only kitten to pose

Attacking the strap on my yoga mat 

Hubris

Now, you're probably thinking a moment of reckoning came and you're absolutely right. You cannot fly close to the sun without expecting your wings to melt off. The first 3 kittens were easy to get back into the pen--after all, they were pretty hungry from all the running around and it had been a few hours from the trough for them all. As you probably guessed, it was the little tabbies that went in easy peasy. We had to get creative and then just reckless in getting Calpurnia, Jem and Boo Radley back in for their tea. And it was messy.  I got my wrist shredded and some palm scratches. I felt pretty philosophical about it; I mean, I've always subscribed to the school of no pain, no gain. Besides, I knew it would make for good cocktail stories: someone would ask how the kittens were doing and I'd simply reveal my arm. Cue general laughter. It's all about the silver lining. In the end, I had to corner Boo in the laundry machine and rubbed his head until he got a bit drowsy before I made my move.

What I wish we hadn't done, however, was let them out twice in one day. I think they got overwrought with the excitement and one kitty left us a stinky surprise behind their pen. To be fair to him, it looked like a serious emergency, rather than the kitten version of sticking two fingers up. Mr Findingmoxie was not amused and was deeply traumatized. And we may have lost our tempers with each other. Hmmm. This project is not just teaching us about cats. I get this tingly feeling like the tiny hairs rising on the back of my neck that we're going to have similar breakdowns when it's time for the tiny pitter-patter of other little feet. Sigh. Any practice is good practice though, so I retain my optimism.

Come Monday night, Mr Findingmoxie had forgiven the kittens and we had some proper gambols with them. Scout and Jem were clambering up over his legs and my back (I was lying on my stomach) in their games. I admit, it's a bit harder keeping them contained now, especially as I'm feeding or cleaning their pen, or just trying to get some petting time in, but I've got this new system.  I am the gatekeeper and there is a toll to get past the gatekeeper. Every kitten that climbs onto the door gets picked up, held in my lap and cuddled. And once a day, they get their fondest wish: to RUN AMOK.

Conclusion: Food and Outside Playtime have become their key incentives and even little Cal curls up in my lap now when she wants to get out of the pen. Fist pump! And tonight, they'll have a little party of guests come to play and I couldn't be prouder of how far they've come.