I went to go and see my Mum this last weekend. Or, more specifically, my Mum’s borrowed kitten. She’s looking after him while his owners are away.
After the initial AWWWSHBUHDUNSCHERHERMERRRRRRR! squealing because he is so cute, and he looked so cutely freaked out when I made this noise, I got to know him better.
He’s is in the learning-to-fight-and-kill-stuff-through-playing stage. I am covered with little kitten scratches and little kitten bite marks – he thinks the funnest thing to do is to jump at you and try and bite your knee/toes/forearm like a snake does. It would be awful if he wasn’t so damn adorable.
Thank the christy he calmed down a enough to have a nap in my lap so I could give him a hug. No scratching for a whole twenty minutes! And I got thinking.
This little guy, who already has a huge kitty personality, wasn’t even alive six months ago. He didn’t exist. This little kitty (imaginatively given the adopted name “Kitty” by my mum), this breathing, living, jumping, biting little fur person, has only been alive for a few months. His momma cat created him – fur, bones, muscles, tiny little kitty brain, silly round eyes – CREATED when before there was NO CUTE SCRATCHY KITTY and now HE EXISTS and he has already become this awesome little green-eyed scratchy character, running around, jumping on stuff, learning things, and pooing in my mum’s boyfriend’s car.
Six months ago there was no kitty. Now he Is.
He’s amazing.
He’s a miracle kitty.