Okay, first of all, you cant really appreciate the title without watching this video. [warning: video clip contains viral meme. Tune may become lodged in brain and begin playing at any opportunity]
Labor Day weekend, the Other brings home two kittens. They are tiny, nearly identical, and fearless.
"No way!" I say, "No way are you keeping those kittens!"
"I never planned to!"
Oh yes, sooo innocent. As if she didnt know.
I have fallen for the kittens by the end of the long weekend, of course. I feel some guilt over this. The Mighty Hunter is 14 years old, and is definitely slowing. The Rebel Queen is 13 and spends all of her days sleeping on the back porch. I feel like, by accepting New Cats, I am somehow bidding the Old Cats goodbye, and I'm simply not ready to do that yet. Mighty Hunter was my first cat (Bitch Kitty, a stray who made my place her own while I was an undergrad, doesnt count), along with Petetronious the Arbiter (cats should come in pairs, I feel). When the Arbiter died, ten years ago, I was devastated. We all still talk about that cat.
But now the Two Queens (historical figures and pet names, go figure) are settling in. The Mighty Hunter still gives them the mandatory hiss, but otherwise ignores him. The Two Queens occassionally think about stalking him, but wisely desist. I'm sure there will be a few swats and yowls yet to come, but I think the kittens are largely settled in.
Given that we now have 4 cats and 1 dog, I dont suppose we'll be moving anywhere anytime soon.
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