"What Do You Mean, You've Made A Mistake?"

Aug 1991:
I was now six months pregnant with K, and our four kittens were crawling around the apartment, getting to know their new living arrangements.  Rosie (Roseanne) was black and white; Tag-A-Long (named because he followed my SU everywhere) was a black shorthair, with a tiny patch of white under his chin; Gizmo had her mom's long fur, but was solid black with green eyes (Tag's were yellow); and Tiger, the baby grey-striped, was very aptly named.


It became soon apparent we had the 'Shelter for Dysfunctional Felines'.  Why?  I'm glad you asked!


Rosie:
My SU was lying on the floor watching TV and I was in the kitchen.  All of a sudden, I hear, "Hey, when did Rosie grow a pair of balls?"


"WHAT?"  I went running into the living room.  SU is holding a very indignant-looking Rosie and inspecting the private parts.  "You're the one who called out the gender after they were born....how could you make a mistake like this?"


"I guess they blended in with his black hindquarters."  He lets Rosie go free.  "I guess we'll have to change his name to 'Roosevelt'.  Or change the spelling, at least.  We've got a Rosey Greer instead of Roseanne Arnold."


"Poor baby....gender confusion at four months!"


Tag:
This one was an 'abuse' victim and Mama's Boy.  My SU stepped on the tiny little thing when he was one month old and fixated on following the SU around.  Ever try to administer First Aid to a mewling kitten with sharp claws?  Not easy.  He crawled into our closet and slept for two days.  I called the vet, who told me to watch for seizures.  After two days, though, he crawled out and was fine.  But we did notice he stayed close to Mama Smokey, and seemed reluctant to leave the box when it was time.


Gismo:
She had her mama's independent spirit.  If she wanted attention, she'd come to us.  And in the coming months, as the only female, she'd discover unwelcome attention from Tag.  So she was the first of the four to make an overnight trip to the vet, which I'll tell you more about next month.


Tiger:
Our 'problem child'.  He discovered he liked People Food better than his kitten chow; he refused to use the litter box at first; he was always sharpening his claws on the furniture or climbing the curtains.  Tiger is damn lucky he survived his first year!  We had to mix an egg in with the kitty chow to coax him to eat; otherwise, he'd have starved to death.  And I quit feeding him leftover meat from my plate.  He also endured his nose being rubbed into his messes, and was the first to have his nails trimmed.  And since he was also the first one to purr, he spent a great deal of time on my lap.  He was the most loving of the four; I guess to make up for his antics!


Mama Smokey:
As soon as she weaned the kits, and we had her spayed, she shot out the door of the apartment and refused to return.  She'd come around for food; the kits would run to the door and look out; she'd get this puzzled look on her face which clearly said, 'You still have them?" and walk off.  Another one of her litters was upstairs, but she never ventured up there (only two had survived).


I was finally wearing maternity clothing and my cravings had switched from the Olive Garden Salad to potatoes.  Specifically, potato latkes.  I think I went through a 10-pound bag of potatoes in one week, making homemade potato pancakes and hash browns.


Basically, the recipe is grated potato and onion; a little bit of milk; an egg; salt and pepper.  Drop by teaspoon into greased skillet and fry a minute or two on each side.  Yummy!  I'm not Jewish, but I love latkes!


And yes, the SU soon grew tired of eating these too....


Present Day:
So far, the new routine is working!  I take the kids to school; walk four laps around the park; come home and start my day.  Think I'll try to do five laps in September, so it's an even 4 miles.


Daughter's knee is now in an imobilizer, and she goes to the orthopedic surgeon on Monday.  I'm currently enjoying her inability to sit in the front seat, because this means she can't change my radio station!


Want to know what I'd be if I wasn't a writer?  Come over to Romance Books R Us and find out:)


Oh, found out my youngest may be ADD instead of dyslexic.  Looks like another trip to the doctor....


Have a good weekend:)