It’s the curse of summer: Kittens.
We are just a humble family of two who live in the country, and if we can get through a summer without some kitten crossing our path, we consider ourselves lucky.
Well, that luck wasn’t to be this year. We got kittened.
My daughter’s boyfriend called to say he had found a tiny kitten in the Walmart parking lot, of all places, and didn’t know where to bring it, but figured we’d know what to do …
Oh, do we ever. I sent him back to the store for some KMR – Kitten Milk Replacer – and tiny bottles.
When he arrived with the kitten, I gave all the lectures about how it would be going to the SPCA as soon as it was old enough to eat on its own. The teenagers agreed, and named the kitten Doodle in the meantime.
But I named it Fulano de Tal. That’s a phrase in Spanish that we don’t have the equivalent of in English. It sort of means “that whatever guy” – no one in particular, just some random fellow.
Because that’s all that fluffy dark grey kitten was to us.
All the while, I had that little ache in my stomach, because if the SPCA could take Fulano de Tal, that simply meant one other kitten from someone else would have to be turned away.
Kittens needing homes are infinite, and places for them to be taken care of are not.
We were at our cat limit (three). Fulano finally got big enough to survive in the shelter and there he would wait to be picked for his forever home.
But then two things happened, one gradual, then the other paired with it that was an arrow to the heart.
The kitten really bonded with Mr. Purrs-A-Lot, whom we had picked up in the road behind the Collinsville Sonic in 2014. Mr. Purrs-A-Lot already was the most affectionate cat we’ve ever seen (hence his name), a real cuddler. Before long, the little kitten and big fat Mister were inseparable.
Then, one day in July, I saw this Facebook post from Susan Sessoms, who works at the SPCA: “Us animal shelter workers are not ok – I cringe every time the phone rings because I know it’s someone needing to surrender an animal or someone who found a stray.”
Uf. And that next call was going to be from me.
Except that Mister made it clear that that was not going to happen.
The huge fat black cat and the wiry little fluffy dark grey kitten are constantly together. If we want to pet or cuddle the kitten, we do not even bother going to get the kitten. He’d just run right back to Mister. No; to cuddle the kitten, we go get Mister to cuddle with, and the kitten will follow right along and lay on top. The two of them purring together sound like chainsaws.
They eat together at the same time out of the same food dish, and they drink together at the same time out of the same water dish. They walk around together, but mostly, they nap all curled up together.
I have accepted the decision of someone other than myself.
And the kitten is now officially named Doodle.
