Kitten Power!

Kitten Power!

Jumping on the bandwagon for the spotlight on cats:

About a year and a half ago my husband had a mild heart attack.  He’s all better now, but the process of balancing his medications and their side effects took their toll on our mental health.  One day in November as I prepared to drive into town (18 miles) for yet another “let’s try this” prescription, he asked if I could bring a Siamese kitten home too.

We’ve had Siamese before but not for almost a year when we lost our beloved Lilac to cancer.  They are the only breed my DH isn’t allergic to.  His plea was so plaintive I knew I had to act.  Fast.  We both needed the comfort and distraction of a pet.

I jumped on the internet and searched for breeders, free kittens, etc. etc.  Siamese kittens were hard to find.  So I registered with the Oregon Humane Society to notify me any time one became available.  6 AM the next morning I got an email with a picture of a tiny, 1.9 lb blue point Siamese male, eight weeks old.  That meant he was born on or very close to my birthday.

This kitten was meant to be ours.

I was out the door and on the road as fast as I could manage, stopping only long enough for kitten food, litter and box, and a cardboard carrier.  The little ball of fluff was sitting on the highest point of the enclosed kitten play area, observing, crouched, ready to pounce on the first interesting thing that crossed his path.  Needless to say, he came home with me and took over the house.

We named him Chessie after the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway System that used a sleeping kitten as their logo.  (The DH is into model trains)  His real name, the secret one we don’t mention in his hearing in case it gives him ideas is Sir Pounce de Lion.  He’s a hunter and an explorer.  A menace, a nuisance, and a lover.  His purr sounds like helicopters going overhead.  He chews holes in a new bag of food because it has to be better than what’s in his dish – even if it’s the same thing!  He’ll only drink running water from the bathroom sink, and he wakes me up every morning with a soft paw on my nose and that rumbling purr that puts a Harley Hawg to shame.

That’s a plush bear cub rug he has just killed at the age of 3 months.

Phyllis Irene Radford blogs here regularly on Thursdays (when  Chessie allows her to type) the same day her serialized cozy mystery “Lacing Up For Murder” by Irene Radford is featured on the front page.

You can find more of her work at https://www.bookviewcafe.com/index.php/Phyllis-Irene-Radford/

Or at her personal website http://www.ireneradford.com