Mark Of The Beast

This wild creature, this completely feral kitten, has turned, in five days, from outlaw stray to spoiled-rotten housecat. Smudge, the baby-boy kitten (brother to psycho-killer Tommie Two-Toes, inflictor of multiple bite/shred wounds) has wormed his fuzzy little way into my heart, and he’s got to be battle-ready and completely well by Sunday, ’cause the Land”lady” will start bitching to the management company about me by Monday.

When I was nursing the kitten for her daughter & granddaughter, it was all kosher to have the little cat in my house. Then, after going back and forth and back and forth all week, last night, at my last-ditch attempt to capture the Mama cat (ha!), I wound up with Tommie in the trap again. So I held onto her overnight, figuring that I could deliver her out to the trailer park where the Land”lady” and her very uniquely-structured family reside. Smudge has been very good about taking his medicine and letting me put neosporin on his surgical wounds, and has made good progress, though he’s not completely healed yet. His innards are kinda stressed out by all of this, the infection, the fever, the trauma of the trapping/neutering, etc. I have a LOT of laundry to do.

And then I call the Land”lady” this morning to see if I can drop Tommie off at her house, and get this: “Oh, they changed their minds, they got a puppy.”

A puppy.

Great.

So I turn Tommie loose again (heard her meow for the first time, and it was so delicate and high-pitched, it sounded like a little bird), and go back to tending Smudge.

Then tonight, outta the blue, the daughter shows up to show me her Shi-Poo-Dach-something-or-0ther puppy that looks like a tiny stuffed animal, it’s so damned cute. I ain’t stupid, I know that the daughter didn’t want me pissed off at her. But then Land”lady” comes sauntering up into the apartment, to see how much “damage” the kitten has done, etc., crinkling her nose up as I’m showing her how he paper-trained HIMSELF, like it’s worse than the stench of her fucking trailer park, then looking at my dirty dishes in the sink, etc. The bitch was here to gather evidence, she didn’t come in to see the homicidal hamster and the sick kitten.

I need this.

Like it’s not going to be a vivisection to turn Smudge loose again — I have never met a kitten, tame or stray, this affectionate, this sweet, this loving, in my LIFE. Even my two rotund spoiled-rotten chirrens were never this affectionate as babies. They were much more into the nibbling my toes and leaving land mines in my black-sheeted bed. He sniffs my face and rubs noses with me and kisses me around my mouth and licks my forehead and he has just wrapped me around his tiny little finger. If he could get the hang of the ‘don’t-immediately-evacuate-upon-waking’ concept, it’d be a perfect relationship. I got a lotta laundry to do. And I have to put him out — in January. GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, yes, I know, I know, there’s billions of people in this world being blown up for nothing but greed and racism and hegemony and Halliburton, there’s people starving, homeless, dying of AIDS all over the world, and very fucking little is being done to fix any of it, at least by THIS country (or what’s left of it). Me and my kitty saga ain’t a blip on the karmic radar screen. It’s not like I’m on a USO tour, trying to hearten and support the troops by going out there into hell myself.

But it’s one of those rare moments in my life when I can look into the eyes of another living creature and know that it not only loves me, but that I’ve been able to make its life better. That’s a pretty rare feeling, and I wanted to share it with y’all.

On the better news tip: Dameon had his check-up yesterday, and he’s thriving so well, (SEVENTEEN POUNDS at almost four months old!!!) he doesn’t have to have his next heart surgery in Feburary after all, and may be able to put it off until April or May!

And at Lee’s blog, I’ve finally been able to post another update — she’s got a doctor’s appointment with that ENT group! Finally!!!

So all is not lost, I’m just feeling the vultures pulling my heart outta my chest when Sunday rolls around and I have to let Smudge go. Yeah, I’ll still be feeding him every day and keeping an eye on him and all of the others, and Cathy wants to wait a month or two and try again to catch that Mama, before she starts stepping out in search of a new boyfriend — but I’m going to miss having that warm little heartbeat lying next to me on those rare times when I actually get to take a nap, that warm little face rubbing against mine as he purrs like a teeny little chainsaw.