Posted by
William D. Dannenmaier on Sunday, May 24, 2009 5:59:50 PM
Animals! No, I’m not talking about children, grandchildren and assorted neighbor children who always gather at a house that already has more of them than they know how to keep occupied. I’m writing of the four-legged variety.
Currently, we have one rabbit (Suzy), three banty hens, three worthless but loving dogs (Sheba, Yukon and Baxter) who love to be underfoot and sleep in doorways and three cats, Uff Da, Diablo and more about the third a bit further down. We have also had, for brief periods, frogs, turtles, raccoons and possums. These last two types were caught in a live trap we kept in the back by the chicken yard as a safety protection. When my two legged trials were younger, I would keep the varmints for a few days so the children could see them before releasing them a few miles away – I don’t like to kill anything. Stephen continues that practice for the same reason.
Two or three weeks ago, Stephen came in and said, “You’ll never believe what I’ve caught this time.” Bored (we’ve caught our own cats and our own rabbit at various time), I asked “What?”
He brought the trap to show me. Inside was a white kitten with tan ears and tail, barely past the stage of opening its eyes. Backed as far from Stephen as it could get, that tidbit of a cat was hissing and showing its teeth.
Where that thing came from, I haven’t the foggiest idea. I know it did not come from any of the three nearby houses, and the next house is at least a quarter of a mile away. Perhaps it was dumped, even so it is a long up-hill climb through brush and woods from the road to our chicken house.
Continuing a stupid practice we have followed for years with stray kittens, we brought the little beast into the house, trap and all. The way it was hissing, we didn’t try to get it out of the cage, but slipped some food and water into the cage for it. It would have none of that! It was not until the next day that the tiny terror decided the food might be better than starvation, but it still backed away and refused to eat if we approached.
Finally, we decided it was safe to open the cage and introduce it to friendly handling, a litter box and other in-house amenities – food and water dishes placed in convenient (for the kitten) spots.
That kitten became a holy terror, a streak of lightning. It dashed from one place of safety, such as under a book shelf to another – under something else. On the way it would attack dangerous objects, such as bare feet and the tails of our disinterested dogs. With time, it became more courageous, dashing over and under things, from under the bookshelf to on top of a chair to under the computer table. It found hanging wires, such as the telephone cord, and those beloved dog tails particularly fascinating. One of my favorite incidents occurred while she was attacking Yukon’s tail. Finally, Yukon, trying to sleep, tired of having her tail batted about and raised it over her body. Like a flash this several ounce dynamo of cat leapt after it, only to land in the center of Yukon’s stomach. This aroused Yukon. With unexpected energy, she raised her head and looked at the kitten as it scampered off.
I named this newest member of the menagerie, with her white fur and tan tail and ears, after Skitter, a pure bred Siamese and my pet for seventeen years (also the meanest cat I’ve ever owned). Stephen and Sheila have other names. Stephen’s name for her is Mayhem, Sheila’s prefers “Ferocious Engine of Destruction” as her name. Certainly both fit.