I have a new kitten, white, bright blue eyes, and a little pink nose. Eveready Bunny batteries were included. His fur doesn’t qualify as “long haired”, but it does warrant “fuzzy” and causes his new daddy’s nose to itch and tickle.
I did not intend to have a kitten. We already have a formal cat who insists upon wearing a tuxedo 24/7. A rabid rat terror resides here, too. Yes, I meant to say “terror”. If you’ve ever known one, you know why. If you’ve ever owned one, I sympathize. If you have one now, run while you can get out alive. All of these fur people are black, white, or black and white, but because of them our life is quite colorful. Irony.
My husband and I went to Monroe to get trim for the kitchen. There is trim here in Podunk, but it is only good enough to plug holes in old trim when you get desperate. We came home with two fish and 1 kitten, and no trim, but I can justify the kitty. The fish belong to my husband who has an aquarium.
While the fish guy was dipping plecostemes, I spotted Fuzz Face. It just so happened that his little enclosure jutted out like a bay window. I fully believe the people at the pet store set this up as a trap. It’s the only “bay window” in the place. Kit-teh was in the bay window being as cute as one little kitten could be without another kitten pitching in. He had me from, “Meow.” Sixty dollars later, we were carrying Fuzz Ball to the car. His real name is Jack Frost because he’s frosty white. It should be Buzz Ball since his past time is buzzing around the living room conducting low flyovers --or any other place he happens to…I started to say light, but he rarely does.
Nothing is safe from Mr. Fur Pants. Don’t wiggle your toes. Don’t blink your eyes. I’m so glad my optometrist refused to prescribe contacts for me. That has already saved my sight on several occasions. Don’t move your fingers or hands or anything else. Also subject to attack are books, paper, pens, dog toys, shoe strings, and an endless list of other motionless things that he sets into frantic (to escape) action.
Lest you think Whisker Face should be sent scatting back to the shelter, he does deserve a few good words on his behalf. He loves to snuggle. His purr is louder than thunder. He squeeks in his sleep. He isn’t in your plate when you yourself are bad and eat on the couch in front of the TV. He always poops in his poopie box. The last item is worth more than his weight in gold.
Much to our surprise, he has livened up Tuxedo Man. I should say we are surprised that he has livened up the old cat’s life in a good way. Hearing my new baby boy mewing for help, I hurried to investigate. Tuxedo was holding him down--no biting, just holding him. An adjustment time, after all, expected and Big Kitty wasn’t inflicting any damage. Back to chores. Tux mewing. Stinker Face had him down. Scratching and biting taking place on the part of Baby Boy. At that point, I figured things were going well. Nobody got hurt. Fifteen minutes later, I found them snuggled up in the bed. Not bookends, but on the same bed. No hard feelings.
Jack has doubled in size in the two weeks we’ve had him. I can no longer feel his hip bones and ribs. His ribs must be somewhere under the baby fat since he hasn’t dissolved into a slithering puddle, but I can‘t feel them anymore. One of my friends uses the phrase “fell into a pot of jam”. That’s a pretty apt description of what’s happened here. Welcome home, Jack!
This web site will crack you up, especially if you're a cat lover or not!
http://www.icanhazcheeseburger.com/
