The Cute Little Kitten

When I first got acquainted with my new cat, the name “Sweetness” came to my mind.  Sounded good…she was so cute and sweet.  Then she started growing and getting more brave.   The house started shifting.  By this, I mean whatever was on top of tables or desks fell to the floor, propelled by cute little paws.  There she played dominoes with things she had knocked off, shuffling around and around, in and out as any expert old domino player would do with those little rectangular pieces with dots (numbers on them).  I tried to teach her what “no” meant, but the excitement of playing her domino game was just too intriguing.  I got a little more firm when she discovered she could drink water from the kitchen sink.  There were also little goodies up on that kitchen counter.  I bottle up cooking oil so it doesn’t go down the drain and stop it up.  She finds bacon grease her source of protein, surely missing from her cat food.

My friends have told me of remedies to safely discipline her.  “Use a folded newspaper; she won’t like the popping noise.”  She just plays with it.  “Spray her with water when she gets on your computer.”  After the first shock, I find she likes water.  The only thing that  works is “time out” in a small carrier placed close to me.

By this time, I am contemplating giving her a temporary name.  My son named another cat “Hellcat” after we tried to catch her so we could exterminate his son’s house.  My memory of that feat was him (wearing gloves) holding the cat by the nap or her neck while I was trying to fish her dangling body through the cat carrier door I had below her.  Her feet and legs were at 45 degree angles barricading her from entering the cage.  Talk about all the racket and growls that cat made before we got her contained…  If a cat whisperer could understand cat language, they would have singed ears from all the profanity coming from that cat.  Anyway, I don’t want to scar my cute little kitten with a derogatory name, and  I fear a self-fulfilling prophecy of a name.  But maybe for a while she could be called “Hellcat.”

My body is scratched all over from her trying to play with me.  I was concerned I might develop cat scratch fever, but seem to be healing up nicely in between attacks.  I’ve learned to not play with her or she just gets worse.  I was complaining to a friend who said, “Ahh, she’s just a little kitten.”  Yeah, right.  Which led me to doing some arithmetic…

If an animal’s life is seven years in comparison to a human life…let me see…and she about two to three months old now…yep, she’s indeed in her terrible two’s.  I just don’t know how long I can survive with her antics until she gets a bit older.

She is so cute. She is considered a tuxedo cat from her markings.  Solid black, except for the tuxedo collar under her neck and white paws.  And I think she is a she.  I looked it up on the internet about how to tell the sex of kittens.  It has to do with the distance between the rectum and the urinary opening being closer together.  But I am notoriously bad at at sexing little critters.  I wanted to save money on buying unsexed chicks by picking the females.  Well, my 12 females turned out to be half pullets and half roosters, but that is another story.  I’m sure other pieces of anatomy will show up eventually to identify her gender.

Recently, I am considering another name for her: “Switch.”  She’s either on or off.  She is laying on my chest sleeping (closer to my head) or wildly tearing about the house getting her exercise so she can sleep a little more on my chest.

I wonder if God feels like I do when His children are acting like little monsters.  I hope He has more patience than I do.

In the meantime, I keep buying antibiotic creme.