Remember Kittens, Part One? Well, it gets better. We had a dreary looking house this past Christmas, no tree. We tried some safe decorations: You know, to brighten up our home. But kittens are curious. They're climbers, little terrorists stalking anything that moves. Santa had a rough time this past year.
Nola, our great big golden mountain dog, loves the kittens. She sleeps with them, plays with them, grooms them, and they return her wet kisses with grooming and kisses of their own. It's love. Maya? Not so much. And Frida the guinea pig? Well, she knows her place in the household: Safely in her protected hutch. The kittens do like to hang out and stare at her, though.
One day I noticed Fiona acting strange, then a howl split from her throat. And when I opened the door ever so slightly, she fled into the night. Oh my gosh, Google gave it a name: Heat.
The next morning, she casually walked through the door purring and staring at me. Off to the vet’s. I frantically scheduled her surgery. “I didn't see any male cats!” I said to the vet, who I swear chuckled under her breath and said it takes three seconds. “Get out the checkbook,” I yelled to Mary Beth, “Better an empty bank account than a litter of kittens.”
The kittens are ready for the world now, fully fixed, shots and all but let me tell you this: We laugh. They are comical. They are imperious, living life on their own terms and always ready for play. We love them and we are not regretful.
Oh, by the way, we have not seen any signs of mice all winter. Yes, my friends, cats on the job are worth every penny.
I’m Lou Ness and that's my perspective.
