The Fourth of July party was fine. I, of course, had too much food. No meltdowns, though -- my aunt brought potato salad and Greek pastries, my dad brought baked beans, my mom brought drinks, and D. bought a grill. My dad grilled the hot dogs (no one requested corn dogs, but I still have all the non-perishable ingredients for the breading, so I might still make them someday), and D. set off fireworks in our street. We sat on the curb and watched the sky with our neighbor Tom. Tom's from Brooklyn and every other word out of his mouth is muthafuckin'. We adore him.
D. and I had taken the day off work for the Tuesday after the Fourth, and we devoted most of that day to two little kittens -- a tiny grey one, and a skinny black one -- we had rescued from a farm up near Rensselaer. D.'s a Harry Potter nerd, so we named the black one Bellatrix and the grey one Narcissa. Now that I've seen all the HP movies and listened to D.'s descriptions from the books, the kittens' personalities match perfectly with the characters. It's uncanny.
|Little Nars... we also call her Cissy... she's wide-eyed and quiet until you turn your back. She is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.|
|Bellatrix... or Bella, as we call her... hardly ever stops moving and is pictured here playing with a leaf that she pulled off a plant in our foyer. She's bigger than Nars and plays with everything. Especially feet.|
|Here's a picture of Micky, just for shits and giggles. She's my pretty girl who has to follow Mommy everywhere. She has like seven different meows.|
I've had so much fun caring for these kittens. My 10-year-old cat Micky is getting more and more used to them. She's hissed and swiped, and even chased after them a few times, but we've kept the spray bottle nearby. We're to the point where we let the kittens out all the time, even when we're not home, because even though Micky has swiped at them, she's never once had her claws protracted. I believe that she knows they're just kittens and mostly they just wanted to play with her, but she's being the mean, bitchy cat because she needs them to know their place. D. says that might change once Micky's much older and realizes that Bella is ginormous. And, despite Cissy's current size, the vet says she should be a very big cat later on. (Both D. and the vet says she's gained weight over the last month and a half, but I refuse to believe it. She is the tiniest creature I have ever seen. I tell her she's no bigger than a pea.)
It's funny to see them play, though. Kittens walk much differently than older cats. I'm not sure why or how to explain it, really, but there's something awkward about them. Cissy fell off my desk this morning. Just slipped and fell. Bella knocked over a bowl of popcorn (and she went tumbling with it) that was sitting on D.'s computer tower -- and surprisingly, she wasn't doing that on purpose. And when they were introduced to the rest of the house after being quarantined in D.'s room for five weeks, they seemed to have trouble walking on the carpet in the hallway, which is different than the carpet in D.'s room. But holy crap, they are so fucking cute.
Cissy enjoys fitting herself into every impossibly small crevice in the house, and then when D. and I go crazy trying to look for her, imagining all these terrible things that could have happened, she appears out of nowhere on the stairs or front hallway like "hai sup," and we're like, "OMFG CISSY WHERE WERE YOU" and she's like, "ummm idk lol" Yesterday I took a picture of her sitting inside one of D.'s shoes.
Bella cannot wait to get into EVERYTHING and wrestle with EVERYTHING. Even when Micky bops her on the head, she's like "lol omg! wheeeeeeee! hai! hai! hai! hai!" and then Micky is like, "i will fuckin kill u bitch" and Bella is like "hahaha you have a tail and I have a tail and LET'S CHASE THEM! hai! hai! hai!" It's actually kind of relaxing to have her sit on the back of my chair while I'm dicking around on the computer, because she plays with my hair, and I haven't gotten royal treatment like that since my hair surpassed my thoracic vertebrae. Micky plays with my hair too, but in a different way: She does it when she's hungry, I'm sleeping, and she's trying to wake me up. So she pulls.