I’m trying not to write too regularly about “the kittens” because, as I wrote the first time, I do not want to be seen as a crazy cat person.
But since people ask….
The kittens — Cleo and Leo — are getting bigger. And with that, less cute and adorable.
Okay I’m kidding. Sort of.
I should explain: My mother has the kittens at my parents' house. My father, who does dialysis at a condo a couple miles from their home, is where I get to see them because I help my father out three to four days a week.
This is much to my father’s chagrin but he allows it. Although Cleo and Leo will probably never hear their names from my father’s lips. He usually refers to them as “those goddamn cats” and once, famously, “those f---ing things.”
It’s understandable, as they sometimes charge into the one room that they should stay out of, the room where he does dialysis. We don’t wear surgical masks but for the most part you follow antiseptic protocol. Hence, I try to dissuade the kittens from barging in and yet, of course, they love to go where they should not, under the table next to my dad or under his chair.
Mostly, I try to play with them in the living room or encourage them to sleep by me while I work. But what I’m finding is that as they get older they have more energy and are less interested in passing out adorably and, I might add, adoringly, on my lap.
I’m trying not to feel rejected.
They do like to play with the-most-awesome-toy-ever, The String, which is nothing more than a former shoelace. Best part: They need me. I dangle it in front of them or pull it along the carpet and watch them crouch low on their forelegs as they raise and wiggle their backside in preparation to pounce.
I’m fast so I can usually pull The String away before they can grab it.
It’s really quite exciting. Especially when Cleo, the smaller female, goes after The String as I dangle it near the top of a carpet-covered scratching post. The best part is that she does not just lunge up to it. She actually takes a sort of flying leap putting her body mid-air momentarily. This provides me with much amusement.
The problem is, I think I adore them more than they adore me. They seem to want to play with each other more than with me. And I’m feeling left out. I’ll find them sitting together on a kitchen chair when they could be curled on my lap or at me feet.
What’s with that?
Little shits. Okay, not really.
But I will say the honeymoon period is fading. The novelty has passed. And that’s a good thing. I take fewer pictures of them with my cell phone. I am less distracted by them when we are together. They still snuggle with me when they sleep, they just don't sleep as often. Best of all, they are settling in as fixtures of the family which means the angst of finding them a permanent home is over.
Now as members of the family they are as taken for granted as everyone else.