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…