Kai fishes!

This morning we had bits of food floating in the water 'dish,' and as I added more water, those bits swirled very fishily. Kai batted first at the incoming stream, then at the bits. He'd catch one, hold it, shake it clear, watch it swim away. Pounce, hold, shake, pounce...

Meera held her ground, drinking properly in a corner of the 'dish.' She made her body rock-solid as Kai jumped over and around and under in his quest for the little snapper. Both were dripping when they finally walked away.

Would he play in bigger seas? I see a wide, shallow tub/dish/basin, filled with little plastic fish and floaty sponges. How deep would he let the water get? Is this a swimming kitty?

A clash of wills

We've had a visit from the extended family...Meera and Kai met my niece, mother, and grandmother two days ago. Both of them ran under the bed when they heard the crowd approach, but the moment we all found a perch and became still, Kai’s little nose appeared, then the rest of him. He came creeping out, and played a good game of string with us, performing all his tricks beautifully. My favorite is The Boxer. He’ll sit back on his little haunches and bat at a toy held in the air, exactly as if he were practicing with a punching bag.

For awhile I tried to think of good boxer names…but in the end decided I didn’t want to give him a name associated with such violence, nor give him a name suggestive of such a male-dominated sport. Most importantly, none of the names fit. Sugar? Maybe as a nickname. Jackie? Not strong enough. Joe? It doesn’t come close to conveying the complexity of his personality. Muhammad? Too long.

I don’t remember when I first thought of “Kai” for Little Boy. Sometimes in the middle of playing or grooming himself, he’ll suddenly stop and stare at me. It must have been during one of those moments that he telepathied, “My name is Kai, woman!”

He and his sister complement each other well. He races headlong into a new game, and will throw caution to the wind in his attempt to capture a toy bird. She, on the other hand, watches from a corner, and just when I’ve forgotten about her and am laughing at Kai’s clumsy attempts to scrabble across a hardwood floor, she’ll dart in and grab the bird in one smooth movement. She waits for the right moment, and she never misses.

So while Kai was playing with my family on Friday, Meera watched from under the bed and gauged our personalities. Just before they had to leave, she came tiptoeing out, gave each of us a leg rub, and went back under. Chary with her affection, that one, until she’s sure.

That same morning, before the family came over, we had a bit of drama. I’d meticulously planned my morning, forgetting that the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry… I set my alarm for 8 am, gathered my research for a homework assignment, sat down at my laptop with a lovely café mocha…and got to work procrastinating. Of which I am the mistress. I thought, this would be the perfect opportunity to let Brat explore the kittens’ room, while I have a couple free hours.

So I got up, opened a can of tuna, and headed down the hall to initiate Phase 2 of Unite the Cats (UTC). Meera, smart beauty that she is, was under the bed when I entered their room. Kai was waiting by the door, and within two minutes I had lured him into his carrier with a spoonful of tuna. He’s bold, but maybe not too bright.

Half an hour later, Meera was still watching me from the one spot I couldn’t get at her. I had pulled out every toy, every treat, I had used my most-coaxing voice, I had called her every unmentionable name in the sweetest of tones, I was dusty and tired of reaching under the bed, I was feeling guilty for putting off my research paper…

Finally I turned my back to her and pretended to read a magazine. Not thirty seconds later, she was lapping at the tuna can. I turned around to pick her up, and she was gone. I turned my back and ‘ignored’ her again. The lapping sound came back. This time I turned around in excruciatingly slow and tiny increments, and stroked her back as she ate…then got her by the scruff and popped her in her carrier.

Did I mention that this entire time, Kai was throwing a fit? Scraping at the corners of his carrier, biting at the air holes in the side, turning and turning until the blanket inside was hopelessly tangled, mewing pitifully the whole time. It almost broke my heart. By the time I got Meera in her carrier, I felt sick to my stomach, and wondered if I was trying this too soon, or going the wrong way about it. But I’d come this far…

…so I put their carriers on the floor, opened their door, and went to see what Brat was up to. My hope was that he’d explore their room and their smells, maybe sniff at their carriers and offer the kittens the key to the city. A woman can dream, right?

Brat was on the armchair in the living room, tense, suspicious, tucked into himself. But he really wanted that tuna. I let him lap from the can a couple times, then put it in the middle of the hallway. He hopped off the armchair and followed me. Lapped a couple times, and I moved it to the end of the hallway. He followed. Lapped. Then I put it right outside the open door to the kittens’ room. Open door—he should have been wildly curious to get inside that room. Instead, he walked down the hallway in the opposite direction, turned to look at me, and clearly said, “Not even for tuna.”

Disgusted, I briefly considered dumping him in MeeraKai’s room, and then stopped, laughed, and waved goodbye to the thought. Everything in its own time. The best laid plans…Amen. I let Meera & Kai out of their carriers, shut their door again, and reassured them with rubs and coos. “We’ll find a better way, munchkins.”

And we did! The next day, yesterday, I initiated Phase 3 of UTC. I put my sweet docile gentle loving cooperative Brat in his carrier, placed him nice and high on the couch, and let the kittens roam free. Kai the Explorer shot out of his room and got to work 'sploring. Meera stayed under the bed! Kai explored for a good twenty minutes before he found the couch, and Biggest Brother. He got too close, Brat hissed. He ran off, came back, Brat growled. I said, “Enough for one day, my pretties!” Everyone back in their places, all’s right with the world.

We’re making progress…

Names, reveal thyselves!

Little Girl's name has revealed itself. It is indeed Meera. She's such a sweet cuddly little thing, with that beautiful delicate tiny round face, and sooo affectionate. "Meera" says all that to me. She took longer than Little Boy to warm up to me, but now she's first to rub against my legs, and she only jumps a little when I approach (as opposed to racing under the bed). She does this thing, I call it the Ecstasy-Roll, where she'll be lying on the armchair or the bed, and just roll and roll and roll, rubbing her head and body against the softness. "I feel soo luxuuuuurious......"

But as for the name 'Jojen'...no. He's not a J-kind of kitty. I liked the name Caspian--I thought it was a great water-reference, given his splashing tendencies, and a great C.S.Lewis-reference--but he didn't like it at all. The search continues...

Yesterday I noticed they really have to high-step it into their litter box. Little Boy was half in and half out at one point. He looked back at me as if to say, "Does it need to be this hard?" But this morning I peeked my head in, and there was...a pillow, just outside the entrance to the litter box. Problem solved! Important thing is, they're using it. When Meera goes in there, she scrapes around a LOT before doing her business, and then scrapes around AGAIN before jumping out. I hear her little claws tearing holes in the plastic bag, and think I'll have to find some heavy-duty liners until they learn to sheath those things properly.

The moment I forget about my munchkins, that's when they make the most noise. I was making dinner last night and heard the most horrendous thumping from the back bedroom. It sounded like empty cardboard boxes were being kicked from one end of the room to the other. I looked to see where Brat was. "Did you hear that?" (I might have said this out loud.) He was crouched over his water dish, head poised, ready to drink, but eyes and ears were trained toward the noise. I put my spoon down and tiptoed down the hall. I oh-so-quietly turned the knob and stuck my head in. Both of them were curled in the armchair and blinked at me sleepily. BUT a little footstool had been overturned, and a *very* heavy blanket had been dragged from the chair to the floor. I made no accusations, I just cooed, "Hey, little guys," and shut the door again.

Little Boy has discovered the joys of the scratching post. I scrape my nails down its ropy side and both of them will come running to investigate. When he gets about a foot away, he'll launch himself into the air, spread the toes of each paw, and land, clinging to the side of the post. His favorite game is to mountain climb like this, and then bat at a piece of paper I've put on top of the post. I've noticed he can't resist a good game. Meera will play for awhile, and then go do her own thing, but Little Boy just keeps going and going and going ("Energizer Bunny"? "E.B."?). It's hard to get one-on-one playtime with her...she too easily gives up when big bro comes charging in.

They're becoming more affectionate with each other. No washing of each other's faces yet, which I really hope I get to see. But they'll curl up together in the armchair. That's where they were when I came in this morning. That was the first time they didn't run at the sight of me. They both stayed where they were, and I held my breath as I walked over and crouched down. He shut his eyes again, but she stood up, streeeeetched, and then stood on him to get to me. She *stood* on him, all curled up in a ball as he was, and he let her! This was also the first time they let me really pet them. Both of their motors were going, and I could tell they'd been just *dying* to trust me enough so that I could give them some good loving. I thought it would take more than three days, but no! By early afternoon, they were both very comfortable with me petting and scratching them... I have yet to pick either of them up.

I found a shallow rectangular tupperware lid to something, about a foot-square, and am using that as their water dish. It's not breakable, it's not tippable. He still dabbles, but I haven't seen him scooping like he did the other day. This morning he patted the water a couple times, put both front paws in, and lapped twice. Then he caught sight of something in the water, jerked his head back in faux fear, sniffed closer, ears perked, twisted his neck around to get a better view, lifted one paw out of the water and dabbled some more.... ("Narcissus"?)

Before going to bed last night, I scratched Brat's ears outside the Mysterious Smells & Sounds room, and then opened the door a little. Little Boy came padding over. He and Brat made eye contact, Brat hissed and ran. So that was short and sweet. On Friday morning I think I'll put Meera and Little Boy ("L.B."? "L.B.J."? "Lyndon"?) in their carriers, and let Brat roam around the room, if he has any inclination to. Baby steps...

Homecoming

The little no-names (Sarah? Jojen? Meera? SweetPea?) were doing well when I left for work today. Little Girl stayed in her carrier for hours after I opened its door, though I noticed mid-afternoon that she'd switched over to Little Boy's carrier. The grass is always greener...

Little Boy shot out as soon as I opened the door to his carrier, and immediately began investigations. Within half an hour, he had eaten six pieces of kitten chow, sniffed the four corners of the room and both of my feet, jumped onto every available surface, inspected the cracks in the ceiling, discovered the window, splashed a good 1/4 cup of water from the dish onto the floor, dragged two toy mice under the bed, cleaned both paws and one ear, and checked in with little girl to make sure she was still there in the carrier (not once! not twice! but three times! yep, still there). He eventually curled up to nap next to his sister. Not touching her, but darn close. I think the trauma of moving yet again (but home this time!) will bring them closer.

Brat has no idea what's going on. He thinks there's something fun behind the bedroom door, and he knows he smelled good food, but he's been minding his own business for the most part.

Around 3 pm I checked in with the kitties. Little Boy was gone. And I mean g-o-n-e. I looked in every possible hiding place, and checked under the bed three times. Nothing. I search my apartment. Nothing. I ask Brat if he's seen a small stripey kitten with a long nose and goldeny-taupe eyes. He's not a squealer; I got nothing from him. At this point I start to panic and think irrational thoughts. Is there a way to get outside from the bedroom? Is there a hole in the window? Could he have slipped through that uncovered outlet? I check once more under the bed, and this time, I look under and UP. Lo and behold, through the thick black mesh stuff that lines the bottom of a mattress, I see suspicious cat-like lumps. And down near the head of the bed, there's a HOLE in the thick black mesh stuff. I breathe a sigh of you-know-what, and maybe call Little Boy a dirty so-and-so, and then I wonder if this is the way it's going to be for years to come. Drama and intrigue, excitement and fear. I hope so. I got a knife from the kitchen, ripped another hole in the mesh, so the kitties have an entrance/exit at both ends of the bed and don't feel trapped, and then I quietly left them alone.

By the time I left the apartment today, Little Girl had left the carrier. Life is good.