Trying to get changed is the most challenging.
"Hey there, pumpkin. That's where my foot goes. Yo, kiddo! stop crawling up the inside of my pant leg. Oww! that's my bare leg, girlie!
Sleeping is another adventure. I finally fall asleep and one of them decides to turn my body into an obstacle course. First step - Race across Brooke's stomach. Second step - Do a summersault over her face. Third step - Sit on her nose. Fourth step - Oooo toes!!
Funny fact - Traditionally, I STRONGLY DISLIKE cats. Other people's cats are...okay. I'll pet them if they come to me. Kittens... yeah pretty cute, but they turn into cats, and I'm not one of THOSE people. I haven't always disliked cat's, but Mr. Blueberry Eye's (aka Jalen) cat changed that. There is a reason her nickname, Diablo, is used more than her real name, Duma.
So you can imagine my surprise when two weeks ago I was walking calmly back to my room and one of the twins bounced up to me and said, "This is yours. For one sole." He said it like, "This is yours, and you will pay me one sole." I mean, how do you argue with a ten year old who just handed you a two to three week old kitten who's eyes are barely open? I'm not THAT cruel. (I should add that when we gave up the money, he returned it.)
Julietta had found three kittens on the side of the road and brought them back to the compound in a small cardboard box. The locals didn't want them, so they asked if we wanted them. Three kittens. Three SMs. Seemed legit.
Two boys and a girl. One was black with marbled orange coloring on her nose. The other two were orange. Now, deep in the recesses of my brain I've always said, "I don't want a cat. They're nothing but arrogant trouble. BUT, if I DID adopt one, it will be orange, and I'll have it from kittenhood." That's a word, fyi. If you look it up it will say, "Etymology: Brookism." (I decided to actually look it up and apparently it's a documentary... so not as original as I had hoped. Oh well! I'll have to be remembered for something else.)
That first day they mostly slept... and refused to eat the milk we had. We named them Pamina, after "The Princess and the Flute;" Yama, Japanese for mountain; and Mr. Bingley, a fitting name for an orange cat if you ask me.
I don't want to say I'm a converted cat person because there is a lot of trauma from Diablo that I'm still healing from. ;) But, I HAVE looked up how I can bring a cat from Peru to the United States.
Lucky Tiger, our Hong Kong kitty that Mama and Papa brought home from China before I was born, died this week. Almost 22 years with her, and her life overlapped with Mr. Bingley's for one week. Lucky and I were hardly friends. She resented me because Mom and Dad paid more attention to me than her. I wonder why? I was literally five before I even remember touching her much less petting her. Still, her death marked the end of an era. It will be weird not to have our Hong Kong kitty. But, now there's the Peruvian kitty.
The second day with the kittens things took an unexpected turn. Mama cat showed up. I'm not sure how she found us. Relief accompanied her because now the babies had the milk they really needed...and accepted. Angst followed, too, because she kept trying to take them out of the compound, and one nearly got eaten by a dog in front of us.
However, after a few days she realized we liked her, we just didn't want her to take the kittens. We have since settled into a compromise. She comes and goes as she pleases, feeding and cleaning the kittens. We house and protect the kittens.
We have a new puppy on the compound, too. His name is Bobby! He is FAT! I'm wondering if there is a mini watermelon stuck sideways in his poor stomach. But, man he's cute. His breath on the other hand...What is it about puppy breath? Dog breath is bad, but puppy breath makes me wonder if he ate a thousand dead ancestors… because YIKES!
Mama cat doesn't like Bobby. She sent him off with pitiful squeals tonight after he got just a little too close to her babies. By the wagging of his tail, it's clear he hasn't the faintest idea what he ever did to her. He's hardly bigger than the kittens so he can't really do much harm.
Our new pets, yes, even the cats, have been a huge comfort lately. New surroundings do odd things to people. :p I fell asleep on my bed this afternoon and woke up with Bingley's head under my chin and his paw on my chest. I guess you could say I'm pretty smitten. But Duma, I'm still holding a grudge. You don't get off the hook that easily.
Funny, this isn't remotely what I had planned to write tonight. Sometimes stories write themselves.
With love from Peru. <3
~TBS~
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