Thursday, November 19, 2009

About 2 years ago now, my husband and I got into a huge fight.

I shouldn't say fight, the more accurate description is that he misbehaved, and I was furious.

I'm not going to go into the specifics, but would only say that I most definitely used his behavior to con (oh yes con) him into allowing me to get a kitten.

Rowan was 1 1/2 years old and I had hit the "need a baby fix" stage hardcore... I kinda sorta enjoyed sleeping though, so a kitten was most definitely a wiser choice.

I dragged child and forlorn husband to the local shelter, and after agonizing over the gazzillion adorable little kitten faces staring out at me, I selected a quiet black 5 month old kitten that had found her way into the shelter after her 80 year old cat loving owner had lost her home and moved into a elderly facility. (how could you resist that story??? poor cat!!)

So we brought her home, we dubbed her Miss Grafton and I coddled her cute little fuzzy kitten cuteness all night.

The next day was horrid.

Miss Grafton had the shelter flu.

She had mucus pouring out of every available sinus exit there was.... she was lethargic....wouldn't eat or drink... didn't move. There were days I came home from work and she was still in the spot I left her in.. with a puddle of mucusy drool beneath her face.... her eyes closed....

There were vet visits, hundreds of dollars spent... chest exrays, bloody kitty noses, forced feedings and waterings, dark thick antibiotics in a syringe that I had to order and have delivered via a special veterinarian pharmacist hundreds of miles away....

2 months of care and worry.

By the skin of her teeth she lived..... she only weighed 3 pounds when all was said and done..... she was skin and bones and brittle.

Now Miss Grafton is a fierce domineering warrior. She is aloof... in charge, imperial to behold and far too important to spend her time cajoling with humans.

She'll spend 30 minutes tormenting a mouse before she kills it...

She will rip the face off any other cat that enters her territory. Her life is spent outdoors... until it gets to cold at which point she comes inside to sleep curled up somewhere. If she is disturbed from her slumber a cruel vicious scowl will follow.


At night, in the dark, after my babes are both sound asleep and I lay in my bed quietly reading in the glow of my book worm book light, Miss Grafton jumps up onto my bed. She very silently and stealthily makes her way to my stomach....and her tiny little purr motor ignites.... she'll brush her smooth black cheek up against mine....and jam her head into my waiting hand demanding some petty love.

Eventually she'll curl up in the crevice of my neck and shoulder and purr in my ear until she falls asleep.

She remembers..... she remembers that I saved her life.

But shhhhhhh, don't tell any of the other humans.