The Kitten Entry that Never Was

Back in the spring, our Masset cat Matilda gave birth to kittens, and it was awesome. She gave birth to them on Melissa's sweater, and then, in the night, carried them one by one to the basement, laying them out gingerly .... on our clean laundry pile. I woke up in the night at this point, hearing the desperate mew of kittens, and when I could only find Matilda bathing herself and smacking her chops menacingly, I came to the only logical conclusion available: MATILDA ATE HER KITTENS.

Obviously I was wrong, as was soon discovered on Kitten Hunt 2007. The next night, when I was almost asleep, I woke to the sound of meows again... Matilda had carried each one of her kittens up two flights of stairs to my room, which is where they stayed for the next month or so. Homes were found for all three kittens -- one to Max's friend down the block, and the other two to a fellow hospital employee, and all of them seem to be thriving. And are huge. Seriously, Matilda may have mated with a leopard. Or an Eagle. OR A LEOPARD EAGLE HYBRID. OH MY GOD, COOL.


Anyways, this is the entry I've had drafted in blogger since the kittens began.

Goodbye Kittens... Jax's black heart is secretly breaking inside.

The last of the kittens have gone to their new home and this house is now officially kitten free. A lack of kittens equates to a lot of disappointed neighbourhood children as our house was the most awesome place ever for a good 10 weeks. Because, besides our seemingly endless supply of perogies and Melissa's mean perogy cooking skills, we had three insanely adorable kittens roaming around the house... taunting Jax, stealing Jax's food, experiencing Jax's wrath in the form of glares from the stairwell and 10 minute growling sessions, letting Jax bathe them gently, gingerly when he thought no one was looking. He is an awesome stepfather. He believes in tough love, seasoned with just a few passing inclinations to feast on his stepchildren. Especially Goblin.

The kittens were born on March 22, 2007, and originally there were four. Little Neil Patrick Harris, TV's Doogie Howzer M.D., died a few days after being born. He had some problems from the get-go: a breached birth and an injured tail, he seemed the weakest of the four. We buried him under a tree in a friend's yard, after an impromptu service.

The other three kittens are happy and healthy! Violet (also known as Kleeborp) was sick for the first few weeks of her life and ... well. Let's be honest. She was really gross. But we pet her anyway and she grew out of it and turned out to be the most awesome kitten ever. Brian is kind of an asshole. Matilda let him nurse off her until the bitter end, partially because he demanded it. Secretly, Brian was always Matilda's favourite. Goblin was my favourite. Mysterious, aloof and black, Goblin has the spazziest meow I've ever heard and used to sleep curled up in my sweater.

So... Jax hates her and kept trying to eat her. Partially out of jealousy, mostly out of hunger. Jax craves the blood of kittens, but thankfully, Whiskas will do. ... For now.

Labels: Family, Nayture