The Lucy Show

"I Love Lucy" - Dickens

Two weeks ago, we took the Ferocious Black Panthers to Tisol in Burnaby for an adoption event. In the kennel next to them was a pretty little two year-old black cat named Koko, whose kittens had all just been adopted. Everyone who saw them together asked us if Koko was our boys' mother, because her colouring and theirs was so similar.

Of course, it was just coincidence.

On Saturday, we went to visit our friend, Karen Duncan at VOKRA Command Central. Arrangements had been made to send our buddies Malcolm and Dickens to PetSmart in North Vancouver, and Karen was concerned that poor, little Reese (and we as well) would be lonely without his mushy big brothers. Karen had a ten week-old kitten named Lucy, who she thought we would like to foster. Lucy had been adopted once, but sometimes the adoption doesn't work out, and this was one of those times. Lucy is one of Koko's five kittens.

She is tiny, soft and she looks fragile - she is NOT! She was in the apartment for around ten minutes before she had climbed to the top of Pepper's little scratching post, and by the time half an hour had passed, she had commandeered every cat toy in the living room. When the boys or the Flying Fellini Sisters got too close to her, they would be warned off with a fierce, adult growl, quickly followed by a tiny, hard fist.

Somehow, the co-ordination of moving the two big boys to PetSmart has become tangled, and Dickens and Malcolm are still with us (oh, darn). Over the past forty-eight hours, Malcolm has come to like Lucy very much, and poor Dickens is hopelessly smitten. My buddy Reese is not quite so fond of her. He's had the cute, little kitten franchise sewn up for five months, after all, and now this hideous, little gargoyle has robbed him of it!

Cats will be what cats will be, and in addition to the hissing, spitting and growling, there has been a good deal of butt sniffing (Memo to Ferocious Black Panthers: the new kitten is not a wheelbarrow). When this is carried too far, the grumpy, little cat will enforce her territorial prerogatives (Memo to Little Miss Hiss: pick on somebody your own size).

We have no concerns about Lucy's safety. Frequently, we step over the bodies of our three fallen warriors, while our new little girl swaggers around the living room, dripping gore from the fresh Havana brown scalps fastened to her tiny lance-head.

The Flying Fellini Sisters, quite sensibly, have chosen to remain neutral. I suspect they are planning to pick off the survivors one by one. Again, I don't think we'll have these little beauties very long. The Boys are the nicest cats we have ever fostered, and Lucy is a perfect little doll.

We've had calls tonight from people who want to meet all of them tomorrow.

I'll miss them when they go, but I can't wait to see who's next!