Most of the summer my kids begged for a kitten.
Every time there was a kitten on TV: “Can we get a kitten? Please, please, pleeeeeaaaaassssseee!”
Every time there were kittens in the pet store: “Can we get a kitten? Please, please, pleeeeeaaaaassssseee!”
College Boy even got into the act, looking for the Humane Society kittens online then showing me the cutest ones: “Isn’t he cuuuuuute? I’ll take him with me when I move out… you know you want one… Pleeeeeaaaaassssseee?”
I remained unmoved.
Then along came Cowboy. Cowboy is Princess’s boyfriend. Cowboy hates cats. Actually I think Cowboy is afraid of cats. Whenever one of our cats sneaks up on him he jumps a mile and shies away from it, all the while trying to look casual. I think it’s hilarious but I try not to tease him toooo much about it. That wouldn’t be nice, and I’m always nice. OK, I’m not always nice, but I feel the same way about dogs as he does about cats so I try to be nice.
Anyway, it was Z-Man’s fourth birthday and Cowboy came over to celebrate with us. I was in the kitchen, busy with something when Princess came up to me with a tiny ball of orange fluff in her arms. “Look what Cowboy brought me!” she exclaimed, nuzzling the fluff. It was one of the tiniest kittens I had ever seen, and it was orange. I don’t like orange. I don’t like orange cats. I’ve always said we’d never have an orange cat. Even tiny fluffy orange kittens. Cowboy stood next to Princess, “We have a lot of kittens at work; people just drop them off when they don’t want them.” Cowboy works in a feed mill in the country, apparently a good place to drop off kittens.
“Can I keep him? Please Mommy?” Princess begged with big brown eyes. Cowboy knew I’d been saying we didn’t need another cat. “I can take him back” he offered. I looked at Cowboy’s earnest brown eyes which softened when he looked at Princess. I looked at Princess still nuzzling the kitten. “Yes, you can keep him.” I said. What else could a mama do?
I have to admit, he’s pretty cute… even if he is orange.