This summer, I welcomed a new addition to my little family. NO! It’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not and have never been pregnant (despite what my Mass Comm students seem to think). There are no mini-me’s running around, and the Boy and I are perfectly happy keeping it that way for quite some time. No, no kiddos for this one just yet, just a soft, cuddly, evil little kitty.
Named after the evil firebending prodigy in Avatar: The Last Airbender (the TV show, not the ghastly movie that should have earthbended M. Night Shymalon into a grave), Azula takes after her namesake. Oops. Maybe we should have thought of that and named her Soft Kitty instead. Or Pankcakes, to match Boy’s dog Waffles.
Our first night with orange and black Azula (or Stinky Butt, as we lovingly call her), she raised hell, and that first week very closely resembled having a child. The lack of sleep and level of commitment even had me second-guessing this whole thing. No more nights at the Boy’s, not when I have a 4-month old kitten at home.
That first night, after she got tired of attacking our feet nonstop, meowing, biting and scratching us, running around, and all other acts of mayhem, she decided to be useful. While waking, Boy and I noticed some gray fluff in Azula’s mouth. Hazy, exhausted, and foggy-eyed, and thinking it was a piece of fluff from under the bed, I asked Boy to hand the devil kitten to me. I immediately noticed it wasn’t just fluff, but believed the item in her mouth to be one of the mice toys I’d bought for her, so I reached in and grabbed it out.
Nope. Damn thing was an ACTUAL MOUSE!
I felt it squirming, freaked out, and tossed it half across the room, where it settled on its feet and scurried into my closet, where, I assume, it still is, 3 months later. I have more sympathy for Tom now.
Azula’s calmed down some now; she still runs around and flies from one piece of furniture to another, but she usually leaves us in peace at night. Her favorite thing now is to block our view of the TV, even sometimes attempting to scratch or climb it, but our squirt bottle solution seems to be working to unblock our view of Breaking Bad or Walking Dead. At the moment, she’s curled up on the couch next to me, being nice and a sweetheart, and reminding me why I wanted a cat in the first place.
The hardest part now is getting her and Waffles acquainted. Last night was their first night together, but we put a gate blocking them so there wouldn’t be any accidents in the middle of the night when we were too comfortable riding out Sandy’s wake on a heated Queen-sized mattress. They have some time before we force them together permanently, but every little step helps.