Four months ago we brought home a feral kitten. She was about five weeks old and from a litter of four. She was most definitely the runt, and she had a bad eye infection that was so sticky that she could hardly see. The kittens and mom lived outside at the house of my daughter’s babysitters. These people are cat lovers and have been feeding and watering and keeping ferals alive in the neighborhood for 20+ years. Unfortunately, our neighborhood has a bad feral cat problem. Fortunately, there are some families who’re active in getting city grant money to participate in the catch, spay/neuter and release program.
Each morning this summer as we walked to the sitter’s house, we’d have to spend an extra 15 minutes outside catching and playing with all the kittens. This sweet little tuxedo kitten was the first one to always get caught by my girl. I think it was partly runt, partly eye infection and partly because she was used to being picked up by children and adults already. My daughter begged me for a kitten. I said no. Every afternoon I would send my teenage son down the street to pick up his sister, and the two of them would spend another 15 to 30 minutes playing with kittens. He started begging me for a cat. I said no. I was holding strong because my husband was dead set against it.
But then I stated to hold this little one, and the mama in me kicked into high gear and I found myself worrying she would go blind from the eye infection. I have never in my life owned a cat. My mother can’t stand them. Dogs only. My kids begged and then we all started begging my husband. Outnumbered, he gave in, but he made it very clear this is not his cat. My daughter kept calling her kitty cat, kitty cat so she named her Kit Kat.
We took the kitten to the vet and cleared up her eye infection. She’s had her shots and next up we’ll be getting her fixed. We kept her in my son’s room and slowly introduced her to the dogs (all shelter animals because I believe these animals have an endless capacity for love, like they know they’ve been saved somehow). Kit Kat didn’t have run of the house until just last month. Her and my little dog play every day. She likes to hide in a box and then when the dog isn’t looking, the cat jumps on her kamikaze style and scares her. Then the two of them tussle and play for an hour. Even my old boy (the white one) has taken to kitten. He won’t play, but he’s usually the first one she snuggles up next to for nap time. I believe Kit Kat thinks she’s one of the pooches.
This picture is what I see every morning about 10:30 a.m. when I walk from my studio/office through the living room and into my kitchen to get water and a handful of nuts. My animals napping, all touching on our old, worn-in sofas where babies, kittens, puppies, kids and animals are welcome to sleep, jump, play and chill. Our home is comfortable, lived in and people/pet friendly. Sometimes I dream of having an artist’s abode where the entire house is magazine worthy, but then I remember that in my world love looks like this.