It’s more of a sense than a knowing really. The eyes glow blue-green from dense shadows. Those eyes hold you in their gaze so you barely notice the crouching form poised to inflict pain. Malice is in her heart as she prepares the attack—there will be no survivors. She waits until you seem unaware and then…argh! Tiny little claws grip your foot and sharp pin-like teeth bite into and through a thin layer of stocking. She rips and tears and then runs away.
Yep. We just got a new kitten. She came from a dear friend’s family farm in Verona, Wisconsin. The story goes she was discovered terrorizing the heifers in their pen, and was taken into the house for a bath and an evaluation. This tigress is all of six weeks old and weighs about a pound. The heifers weigh much, much, more. To say this young kitten has attitude and survival skills is like saying Kim Kardashian makes the news once in a blue moon. I’ve named her Pudgy. (The kitten, not Kim.)
Our puppy Booker is confused and upset. He’s not sure what to make of this interloper. I’ve been trying to create gentle, gradual introductions, but feel like it’s not going well. Today he sniffed my shirt where I’d been holding Pudgy close to my heart. He seemed to be thinking about something. Then, after another sniff he licked the area. I’m not sure if he was signaling acceptance or deciding if she’d taste better with ketchup. Having young life in our house has definitely filled the space with fresh energy. Caring for these babies may give me more grey hair, or I may laugh my butt off. Pudgy…my fuzzy ball of attitude…is the best part of my day.