Some
of my good friends will say it was inevitable. The more practically inclined may
shake their head, ‘At her age, she’s nuts.’ But I hope all will be as delighted
for me as I and Lilliput are. The latter’s reaction is still ambiguous – though
she seemed to miss our Big Boy Tinker, and has even taken up his nightly caterwauling.
The
history of this new fur ball is that I had been feeding his mother Abby over
the last two winters. Her 2019 March litter of five, alas, is now two one-year
olds.
Nature’s way also reduced the 2020 March litter of four down to three.
Two blondes, one pure black kitten. Because of our ‘situation,’ the nearby timeshare
complex was completely deserted except for the occasional maintenance and
landscape guys. And there was I, faithfully traipsing across our road serving
breakfast and dinner.
Abby
had periodically moved her kittens around, down one hill, across the drive
under this deck and that, behind yet another three-story building. But always,
she would lead me to them. It was idyllic – until Wyndham Timeshares opened up for
the American Independence Day celebrations. Off and on, I enlisted the goodwill
of occasional visitors and cleaning crew at least not to discard my dishes (some still were).
Over the Fourth holiday,
I had to hide the bowls below some rock ledges (clambering was involved), as
people, cars and boat trailers rattled about.
Before
this commotion, the kittens were so used to their gravy train, I could touch
and comb them. With our woods all around, it was amazing: Not one flea or tick
– except for ‘beggar’s lice’ (those pesky seed pods that latch onto one’s pants).
Anyway,
on July 2nd (Mango’s Gotsha Day), I popped him into my bag having already
prepared the guest bathroom to get him acclimated. As soon as I put the bag
down at home, he pushed the zipper open. So much for a well-laid plan.
From
day one, this feral kitten used the litter box (oh, lucky break) and quickly preferred
sleeping on my bed rather than the ample choices of cat beds. This, of
course, entails the predictable early (early!) kitten-romp and toe gnawing
(mine, not his).
I
must remember to look down when walking as he tends to be underfoot.
My old Lilliput sleeps a lot these days. She
keeps eating less and less and I sadly sense her decline. I stroke her gently
often to let her know I love her. For a few minutes, I try to make her play
with a cord but she lazily lies down rocking back and forth. (Can’t
fault her. I did the same at the gym and called it exercise.) She has always
been such a good no-fuss girl, over the last 15 years putting up with the more
playful characters of NickNack, Pasha and Tinker (I remember them all so fondly).
Now, there is MANGO!
And, no, he's not a toy;
but hopefully a boy - vet to confirm - to be another long-lived fuzzy sweetie.
(Such is the excitement in my life these days. But as I sigh,
I smile.)
