the domestic zoo

As the kittens were growing up, I journaled about the experience and occasionally gave little progress reports. I’ll have to post the whole thing online sometimes. This entry I wrote when the kittens were just over two months old:

As for the kittens: they are sleek, soft, and marvelously robust. I shudder to think what would have happened were they born strays. They have been so socialized to people, that they are amazingly well behaved and affectionate. During the day, when Scully is out and about in the house, and they’re gated in my room, if no one’s in the bedroom with them, they’ll cry and cry and cry some more. Imagine a chorus of four tiny kitten’s pathetically meowing – kind of hard to ignore. All they need is a quick snuggle, a pat in the head, and they’re good to go. Yeah, so they’re hyper, and they get into everything, and they dirty the litterbox really fast, it’s like Jeannie said, “I think we’re getting a glimpse of heaven when we raise kittens. It might be a heaven in which the angels have ripped wings, and there’s a little accident under the Pearly Gates, but heaven, nevertheless!”

Anderson has now been renamed Schilling and been adopted by a lovely couple, who will be taking him home at 12 weeks. He is by far the largest kitten, and the most talkative – you can carry on entire conversations with him. He’s a real teddy bear though, craves any and all affection, and will be purring like a motor with only the slightest TLC.

Steph in contrast, is the smallest, and is turning into quite the wee princess. She’s petite, and likes to sit straight with her tail curled around her feet, like a cat model. Her meow is more like a little chirp, and she’ll use it indiscriminately if she feels she’s being ignored. But she’s also very adventurous, and the most outgoing of any of the kittens. She was the first to get to the second shelf in my closet, the first to figure out the litterbox, the first to try the raw food, and the first to scale the baby gate all the way to the top (she stopped doing that, after she figured out she couldn’t get down). She’s royalty, and she knows it, and she’s going to be an interesting cat someday…

Miko….what can I say about Miko? She’s absolutely living up to her name. She’s disappeared on us twice now, hard to spot because of her dark fur, and we’ve found her up in the most obscure and out of the way places (and sound asleep, the little bugger). Yes, she is quite the “little monkey”, and climbs everything. Furniture, me, litterbox, me, shelves, me. She’s also the spunkiest and will try to pick a fight with anything that moves, which is mostly her brothers. She’s long and lithe, and her markings are so unique, that I think she is just going to be a gorgeous cat someday.

Finally, there’s PJ. The Peej-meister. Peej-erific. He inherited his mom’s very square chin, and it’s always reminded me of a little lion. PJ is a total mix of all his siblings. He’s as sweet and cuddly as Anderson, as whiny as Steph, and as rambunctious as Miko. He gets along with his brother and sisters equally well, but seems to share a special bond with Miko. They’re are the one’s typically playing and wrestling together, but when PJ is upset, Miko is the first one to comfort him (she’s licked his head before). PJ is, of course, stunningly adorable, the Gerber baby of kittens. He’s the one baby I’m having a hard time envisioning grown up, ’cause he’s such a cute little baby. But I have no doubts he’s going to make a superb cat companion for someone.

It’s amazing how some things never change. We haven’t seen Anderson in a long while, of course, but the kittens have become essentially larger (well, not so much in Steph’s case) versions of their baby-selves. Stephanie the princess. Miko the monkey. PJ the hottie. 

And what about Scully?

I’m pleased to say that she no longer fits the description of the newly-rescued “starving, flea-infested, very pregnant kitty”:

Since taking her in, and having her kittens, Scully has really metomorphasized into a beautiful cat (though completely camera shy *grrr*). Her coat is soft and shiny, she’s put on weight, and has settled in to the house like she’s been here forever. She’s still skittish around people, especially men, but my dad was able to pet her for a few minutes the other night, which is a major accomplishment for her. She’s relaxed, she’s playful, she wants lovin’ all the time. A far cry from the tiny, terrified, scruffy thing I brought home. People who don’t know Scully’s history, would likely never suspect it. She has become sociable, snuggly, and even more playful than her kiddos. She is a delight to have around, even though there are some quirks we may never be rid of…

 After initially eating dry food, we switched Scully and the kittens over to a raw/canned combo diet. Scully wasn’t to eager to give up on her precious dry food, and managed to find where I’d been hiding the bag. Pulling a classic move that many starved kitties will do, she gorged herself…and promptly threw it back up. That, I felt, was the defining moment as a cat owner: I’d had a cat vomit on my rug. I was in the club.

Hannah knocked on my bedroom door around eight o’ clock. I was sitting at my desk, checking e-mail and listening to Thistle & Shamrock.

“What’s up?”

“Oh…I was just wondering what we were doing tonight.”

Mom and Dad were out to dinner, Stephen was tidying his room, and I had just finished cleaning animal cages and taken a shower.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“I dunno…”

Her voice trailed off, and for a moment she looked like she might cry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure.”

“I…”

Pause.

“Can we snuggle?”

“Of course. Would you like some raspberry tea?”

A smile. “Yeah.”

So we split a piece of blueberry pie and had it with our tea (pinkies out, of course). Then we snuggled on the couch and watched a documentary on public television. Someday, I’m really going to miss times like these.

An Ordinary Man: An Autiobiography
by Paul Rusesabagina

I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Rusesabagina speak at USM last Monday. The talk, in commemoration of Armenian Genocide Remembrance, was about genocide and indifference. Mom purchased two copies of his book, and after the lecture we were able to have them signed.

The first half of the book sets the stage for the events of April 1994. We are told about the history of Rwanda, its landscapes, its people, and the history of colonization. Far from being a tedious excercise in back stories, this informations helps to paint a broader picture of the ‘conflict’, and just how Mr. Rusesabagina was able to keep over 1,200 people alive inside his hotel. The terror of being witness to a nation-wide massacre, and the sense of betrayal by the world community, are palpable.

A sad truth of human nature is that it is hard to care for people when they are abstractions, hard to care when it is not you or somebody close to you. Unless the world community can stop finding ways to dither in the face of this monstrous threat to humanity those words Never Again will persist in being one of the most abused phrases in the English language and one of the greatest lies of our time.

more information:

Hotel Rwanda Rusesabagina Foundation

There are a lot of big things happening around the world at the moment. Sudan, Myanmar, and Nepal, to name a few.

But what I want to focus on is, to be honest, such a small issue it’s almost silly: the fuss over the Spanish-language version of “The Star Spangled Banner”.

I’ll admit I was quite shocked by Bush’s statement, and I must say, Sir, that I disagree with you completely. Though I haven’t heard it yet, I’m sure someone must have pointed out that America has no official language, only a predominant one.

Why is it so critical that immigrants, legal or otherwise, who barely have a grasp on our language must parrot off an English version of our national anthem? I understand that it was written in English, but the message of the song has not changed. Would it not be better for people to sing the song in the language that they understand? The language with which they feel they can fully express themselves?

They’re still singing about America, Mr. President.

It boggles the mind.

on www.mainepublicradio.org:

“The Psychology of Consumerism”. A recent worldwide survey on happiness appears to confirm the old adage that “money cannot buy happiness.” In this two-part special, we’ll look at four diverse societies to investigate their approaches to consumerism, and how material gain relates to personal fulfillment and happiness.