I’m not sure if I am ready for this. I’m not even sure if I’m young enough for it, but things are rapidly changing here in the hollow. Heartache struck swiftly this spring and took both the Elderly Gent and our eighteen-year-old cat Grenny. For the first time in decades our house was without a pet. Silence reigned, but the outside cat Princess would see to it that our home didn’t stay that way for long.
We knew about the kittens she had stashed under the porch, and we had made arrangements with a farmer weeks ago. He would take them as soon as they were of age, but a predator moved into the neighborhood, and kittens began to disappear. We moved the final two into the bathroom for safety sake, and (you guessed it.) we became attached.
It’s been eighteen years since we had a kitten. Wow, are they active! Wow, are they noisy! Wow, are they messy! They get into everything, they tear up anything they get their paws on, and my legs look like I’ve been strolling through barbed wire. It’s been a great couple of days.
We are guessing Moe (the big gray one) was sired by a huge Main Coon that has been sulking around the neighborhood, and Lil’ Red is a rare, female, red tabby. We had originally given Red a boy’s name, because we had never seen a red one that was female.
Moe is a cuddly, Mama’s boy and Lil’ Red is as mischievous and energetic as she looks. The silence is over, and if we survive this, it might just turn out to be fun.