But we brought him home, gave him some food, showed him his litter box, and he's been surprisingly easy to take care of, even more so than our dog. The only complaint is that he uses my leg as a scratching post, runs all over the keyboard when I'm trying to do work, and occasionally hisses at Jesse, but for good reason.
Jesse, our dog, has been a little put out. Last night around 7 o'clock, we could not find Blossom. We looked upstairs, downstairs, under every bed, everywhere. Kulani went outside to look. Then I went outside to look. No Blossom. By 9 o'clock we started getting scared. By 10 o'clock we started thinking Jesse might have done something to him.
"My guess is that he got outside and either a coyote or Jesse ate him," Kulani said. The thought of Jesse killing Blossom really made me sad. How could I harbor a killer in my house? For a slight second, and in a very small way, I imagined what it must have been like to be Eve when Cain murdered Abel.
Around 10:30 p.m. while I was making some cheesecake to go along with our Thanksgiving dinner to be had on Thursday, I heard a very faint, "Meow." Kulani was about to go outside one last time and look for Blossom's mangled remains. I said, "Wait. I hear a meow." Kulani thought I was imagining things or hearing Blossom's floating spirit. Every time I went to the pantry, the meows got louder. Was he hiding behind the flour? I finally found him in an empty box on the bottom shelf of the pantry. He'd gotten stuck and couldn't get out. We were so relieved to have found him. The girls went to bed thinking they'd lost their kitty.
I woke up this morning to this:
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Blossom quickly made himself welcome in our home.
2 comments:
Oh Cindy! I want to get Minnie a kitty for Christmas so bad! I've been trying to convince Hans of it, but we'd have to pay more rent every month and we'd have to take care of it...
Cats are great. Lots of fun, especially when they are kittens. They are great when they are older and can warm your lap on cold nights. At least until they start pooping places they shouldn't, like on my flipping cycling clothes. Then the cat must go...and she did.
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