Quiet late night here. We’re all gathered in the study, on and around the big square table I use as a desk and work surface.
The kittens are sleeping. Coco is just a foot or two away, draped over a stack of files I used to work my taxes yesterday. Nose to tail, even asleep, she retains a sleek mini wildcat elegance. She’s just a common brown tabby, but nicely marked and marbled, long limbed and lithe. Pretty little thing with an air of grace that eludes her sister.
Esme, slightly larger than her littermate now, is a study in chaos. Her tortoiseshell fur a haphazard mix of black and blonde with just a smattering of brown and red, she cannot help looking the clown she often acts. Not content to just snooze an arm’s length away like Coco, Esme must pour herself in front of me, her head resting on my forearm as I type, dead asleep despite my small movements as I clatter away on the keyboard. Heaven forfend I need to use the mouse whose cord disappears underneath her flatcat body.
Lucy, the grand dame of the house now, sits atop the blue toile covered box full of beads and sparkles. She watches me and the silent sleepers, her golden-green eyes finding the light to reflect even in the dimmed room. The kitter-cats, once evil invaders to be spat upon and hissed at, no longer alarm and actively annoy her as they initially did. A cat famed in family circles as less than friendly under the best of circumstances, Lucy has mellowed into a state of toleration. Her mandatory personal space has shrunk astonishingly. While she still asserts her dominance over Esme with the occasional soft paw battle (until Esme backs away as is only right), I have actually once caught Lucy and Coco asleep in the same comfy chair, rump to rump. It isn’t love, but I smiled anyway.
All in all, I’m rather proud of my family management here. Tessa’s passing was inevitable but left such a big hole in this little family. Lucy needed a companion whether she wanted one or not and I, unable to handle short term love so soon after my many years with Tessa, needed any new addition to be as young as possible. Getting the two kittens was the best family management move I’ve ever made. Despite Lucy’s varying levels of disdain, she does seem to find them fascinating to watch.
Esme and Coco, for their part, are ridiculously happy furballs. Intensely bonded companions since birth, they are each other’s constant playmates, grooming codependents, and cuddle buddies. The only thing that ever seems to upset them is a door shut between them. (Oh, that and an empty food bowl. Yeah, they find an empty food bowl massively upsetting too.)
As for me, I find their unflagging affection for their adopted human just lovely. So different from Tessa’s queenly calm purring acceptance of my emotional offerings and Lucy’s sporadic ankle rubbing requests for my feet (never hands requested, never, never, never) to slowly massage her belly, these catlets absolutely demand love. Despite the quiet electric engine of my Prius, somehow they hear me pulling into the drive, and greet me through the front windows. By the time I open the door, they’re there waiting for pats and thorough rump scratchings. They follow me from room to room, constantly underfoot and over shoulder. Creatures of excessive sleep requirement, they still make it a point to settle into their naps in whatever room I happen to be whenever the sleep overcomes them. When I sleep, they use me as a pillow. When they demand to be held, their preferred position is supine, belly-up like an infant in my arms, full belly rubs rewarded with thunderous purrs. All I need do is hold my hand just above Esme’s dark head and she will rear up on her hind legs to push her head forcefully into my palm. Coco does the same maneuver in the opposite direction, almost falling headfirst into my hand when I hold it out next to her.
Yes, they do believe that destroying my house is an endeavor to be pursued with religious fervor and their nocturnal circus is not something easily slept through, but they more than pay me back for their wanton destruction of the peace, as I reflect upon it in peaceful moments like this.
Just past midnight, the calendar turns and a red letter day arrives. April 15th is no longer known in these parts as tax day. No, there are more important things to celebrate in the new today. There will be new toys to chase when everyone is awake and catnip all around. The kitter-cats have just turned a year old.
(Of course Lucy is invited to join in the fun, just as the chaos twins will be welcomed to enjoy Lucy’s 14th birthday come this June.)
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