Thursday, December 2, 2010

Twenty-One and Counting (One, Two and Three)

The Tall Lady and I will probably not be putting our Christmas tree up this year. Last year, we found that it had a tendency to collect all sorts of strange, furry ornaments. The heaviest decorations, of course were always attracted to the top of the tree testing how quickly they could topple it, while the little, foolish ones stayed near the bottom where they could play with the power cords and chew on the pretty lights. Now that I think about it, our tree wasn't up for very long last Christmas either.

It's not like the good, old days, when our calm, gentle, well-behaved Pepper was still with us. In fact, I doubt that Pep would have approved of any of the strange invaders who have come into her home since she left it. When she died, we decided that we wouldn't get another pet, and we stuck to our decision for about a month. Then we found Xena and Gabrielle on VOKRA's adoption page.

Xena was eight months old when we adopted her, and she was a shy and terrified little girl. I remember the small, skinny kitten with the magnificent sword fern tail slinking down our long, strange hallway, stopping now and again to see if those people were still here, or if the nightmare was finally over, and she was back home with her good, kind foster parents. In the three years since, she has become a calm, confident adult. She is curious and playful, loving and graceful. Xena is our big, perfect cat.

Brie is our little, odd one. Gabrielle was far too formal an everyday name for this little nutcase, and Gabby just didn't suit her, so the Tall Lady cropped her name in the middle. Brie is a dribbler. When she is enjoying her laptime most particularly, you are very likely to be blessed with a little, clammy drop of catspit as well as a great huge smile. She and Xena were both spayed long before we met them, but with Brie, the vet missed a bit. As a result, she goes into false heat every twenty-one days or so, and for the next three days, she rolls and squirms and caterwauls, and makes ridiculous attempts to seduce her big sister. Xena has thus far been too polite to comment, but it's easy to tell that she is not amused!

In October of last year, their world went to hell. That was when the first wave of aliens landed.

1 comment:

  1. I've got a suggestion for the title of your first book: "The Feral in the Bathroom and the Banshee in the Hall!" [the latter bears no resemblance to any foster cats currently living in my home...]