Journal of a Living Lady #197
Nancy White Kelly
Our bathtub has hosted many a guest, mostly and presumably undressed humans. Last year we had a pair of baby goats rent the Kelly Tubtel for a few days during a dreadful cold spell. All we got from them was their deposit.
Presently the bathtub is the temporary home of our mama cat and five darling tortoise-shell Siamese kittens. While we did want kittens, we were not truly expecting them. The breeder said we brought mama cat too late for courting her male. She insisted he wasn’t interested.
I can imagine the hysterical conversation and late night party those two adult cats had after the disgusted breeder gave up and went back to the main house. “The coast is clear. Come on over.”
Recently, as Buddy and I were drifting off to sleep, I heard a meow. Bandit, the mama, had been missing all day. We worried that she had somehow escaped the confines of our house. It was cold outside. Buddy spent a couple of hours driving around nearby roads. I strolled the yard and pasture calling the name of our very pregnant feline. Exhausted, we went to bed hoping Bandit had found a warm lodging.
Buddy is hard of hearing. So far I am not. I shook him awake. “That was a kitten mew.” Groggily Buddy made his way out of bed, put on his glasses, and grabbed a bedside flashlight.
We searched the house from top to bottom, opening every cabinet and closet door. Making our way down the hallway, it seemed to me that the mew was coming from our bedroom somewhere near the bed. We opened Buddy’s closet for the third look that day. To our surprise, there was Bandit. She was busy cleaning up her first kitten atop Buddy’s wicker basket, which was heaped with three days worth of his dirty laundry.
Birthing is a messy affair. We decided to leave Bandit alone and let nature proceed. In case she truly needed help, we left the closet door slightly ajar. Buddy and I tried to sleep, but slumber is hard to come by with a cat in labor five feet from your pillow.
In the morning, there were two additional kittens. When we
checked on Bandit around
I fixed up a cardboard box with newspaper and an old quilt piece. Buddy gingerly retrieved his soiled clothes. Not even SuperPurexOxiTideWhisk was up to this task. Buddy hesitated in the doorway trying to decide whether to head to the laundry room or to the big covered trash can.
“If you go left, we will be listed in the Guinness Book of World Records,” I said.
“Why?”
“For owning the first washing machine that ever vomited.”
For nearly a week, Bandit regularly came in and out of the box. Often she would jump on our bed for a few well-earned pats and then head to the kitchen for refueling. Buddy and I previously planned to move the menagerie to the screened front porch. A sudden episode of blackberry winter convinced us it was too soon for the babies to experience outdoor temperatures. We settled on the bathtub.
As I am typing this in the adjacent office, the kittens are
rolling and frolicking in their porcelain sanctuary. My sister has already
placed claims on one kitten and will take her home to
Spring has sprung with all its wonders. New beginnings. In our family that means a baby and kittens. Cancer is an ugly word that doesn’t seem to fit. I shan’t think of that right now.
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