Sleep was fidgety with dreams of flat cats and my offering Iman an adorable muffin of a kitten. At 5 am I just about had it.
Heart full of hope, I peered down underneath my bed. Oh no, the kittens were on the move and it looks like one would spill out of the shoe box enclosure. I reached down to wedge the box in but the hand never got very far before it was greeted with a ferocious hiss.
Oh great, not only did mommy come back, she was now right in there too! Kittens I can handle but now I got a feisty tiger in there too. JUST GREAT! The plan was for her to sneak them young uns out of here.
Look, me big predator. (check out the size of this bum!)
Them, small defenceless babies. How hard could it be?
Okay, I can understand the nature of maternal instincts and all that jazz but at 5 am, logic is not one of my best qualities.
Think. Think. Okay the main reason why my berth was chosen was because it is warm and dark. (note to self: clean room soon, you dolt)
So seeing that my torch was being uncooperative, I swung my miserable 60 watt, floral-motifed lampshaded reading bulb under my bed, hoping to make the environment less hospitable. Well it worked somewhat.
Mommy cat crept away and eyed me from the window sill. Whoa, I gave her all the room she wanted. Claw scratches are so last season.
No sense in blinding the kittens, so I moved the lamp but kept it lit to show mommy cat, who’s boss. Who da predator? Who da man? Apparently it was the 60 watt floral-motifed lampshaded reading bulb.
The babies began meowing and scratching and yes my friends, it drove me nuts. Why else would I be at the office by 7 am already Googling and Asking Jeeves for cat repellents and the SPCA.
Please, please may the cat take her kittens away.
I so don’t want to have to deliver them to the SPCA. Everybody knows that the animals are put down if there are no adoptive parents. My karma will be shot to bits. Yet YOU try living with a litter of kittens under your bed zealously guarded by the feline equivalent of Zena, Warrior Princess.
I was thinking about the cats throughout the day, from my meetings to my lunch to my buying the lottery. Thick skin again came in useful when I cajoled Jo to accompany me home to show the cat who is boss, again.
We plan to transfer the kids into a box, away from the dark so that mom would have no choice but to seek out alternate lodgings. Hence after work, armed with a cardboard box, bubble wrap to pick up the kitten with and a shaky resolve, we entered my room like a pair of burglars.
And lo and behold – the cats were gone!
Nothing scratched, nothing torn, everything clean as a whistle, well except paw prints on the walls and window sill. Thanks, Jo for being a willing hero.
Cat-astrophe adverted. I don’t have to worry wear I park my feet again. No rustling in the night. No big cat lustily eying my rug. No high-pitched meowing in the middle of the night.
Shucks, I hope they are alright.
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