Well, holy crap, maybe there's something to that "positive thinking" stuff after all. I stopped by my vet last night on the way home to get Revolution for my dog, planning to do a little judicious begging for them to take the kittens into their adoption program, and the vet greeted me with "I was getting ready to call you. I have someone who wants two kittens and would prefer them to be siblings." Well, golly gee whillikers, since that's exactly what I have, I guess this is my lucky day! I'll keep them and continue to socialize them through the weekend, then take them to her early next week. She'll get them all "tuned up" and then they'll go to their new home. Whoo hoo! They're adorable, and they've been fun, and I'll miss them, but they just could NOT live with me forever.
Maybe I should warn them that the orange kittens from this mother seem to have a "drama queen" gene linked to the color. My kitten Timmy, who I kept from the litter I rescued earlier this summer, is quite prone to theatrics. I stepped on him once, weeks and weeks ago, while stepping over the baby gate that keeps the dog out of the litter box room (why do dogs love to eat cat poop so much? ewwww), when he ducked under my foot just in time to get a toe caught under the ball of my foot. Ever since then, if he's anywhere in the vicinity when I step over the gate, he makes a great show of his complete terror--freezing in fear, then rocketing madly around the room trying to escape THE TERRIBLE WOMAN WHO STOMPED ON HIM. Get over it, Timmy. It happened once. Months ago. I felt terrible. I apologized. Geez. Silly little thing.
His little brother seems to have the same propensity for drama. Last night, while laying on the couch watching TV, I heard some meows coming from the garage. I was doing some laundry, and thought the washer/dryer sounds were probably unnerving to the kittens, so I didn't get overly concerned. I'd already noticed the orange kitten was fond of the sound of his own voice. The meows went on, however, and then intensified. Off to the garage I went. Oh, poor sweet orange baby. I had clipped some clothespins to the inside of the wire cage for them to bat at (the last litter LOVED that) and he had somehow managed to get a clothespin off the wire and onto his toe. I felt like the worst kitty mother in the world. I quickly removed the clothespin and spent 15-20 minutes trying to comfort him. He was inconsolable, crying and throwing himself at me to be petted. Okay, I'm sure that clothespin hurt, and I didn't mind doing a little snuggling with him. But he wasn't seriously wounded. And yet, on and on the drama went, as the brown kitten looked at him and I swear, rolled his eyes. Quelle drama!
I love cats. They're so...complicated. I love dogs, too, but they're simpler creatures, I think. I like having both. The yin and yang of the animal world.