Kitty Foibles and the Queen of Crap

     I have five rescue cats living with me in my tiny home.  Five!   Unless you have lived with a cat or two (or five) it will be difficult for you to comprehend the daily drama that plays out in front of you and behind the scenes when you are not present.
 "Oh, but cats aren’t any trouble.  All you have to do is feed them and clean out the litter pan.  They are a lot easier to deal with than dogs.  They just sleep all day, right?"  
 Wrong! 

     First of all, I love these little critters.  It is a privilege to serve them.  And if these four legged mischievous felines could speak, I am certain they would agree that it is their birthright to be served. So, just how much trouble could a cute little purring fur clad
“Kitty Kitty” be? 

     Kitties like to jump and run.  Kitties like to run and jump.  Kitties like to climb, the higher the better.  Kitties like to wrestle.  They like to wrestle anywhere.  Kitties like to wrestle in the floor, on the kitchen table and in the bathtub (unless the word “bath” is involved).  They like to wrestle on top of the refrigerator too.   They like to chase each other up the window screens.  They really like window screens and window blinds.  Window screens offer nice support for their sharp claws; window blinds have a fun pull cord with a plastic cone attached.  
“Clackety clackety clackety clack!”  
lThe rhythmic sounds of pull cord cones popping the window sills and walls break the silence of a hallowed morning. 

     Kitties can multi-task.  They can cling to the window screen and bat around window blind pull cords at the same time.  Kitties like to pull window blind slats apart with their cute little feet to peek at the squirrels running up and down the tree outside of the window.  Squirrels scampering up and down trees excite Kitties and send Kitties lunging towards the window blinds and screens on all fours.   Kitties can shimmy up a window screen after a squirrel faster than you can scream “Down!”.  Furthermore, Kitties like to play with all of the fun trinkets they knock off of the table, counter tops, walls, entertainment center, sewing machine and the top of the refrigerator. 

     Kelty Kayak is a tortoise shell cat.  She was living under a galvanized street gutter just below a popular restaurant on a heavily traveled road.  Kelty was approximately twelve weeks old at the time I spotted her.  I coaxed her up with a can of tuna and a blade of wiggling grass.   Kelty has a major foible.  Kelty chews electrical cords.  It doesn’t matter whether the cord is plugged into the wall outlet or not.  She really enjoys (or despises) electrical cords and has made it her mission to annihilate every one in our home.  This infirmity has rendered me exhaustively taping, hiding, removing and covering any and all exposed electrical cords.  It has forced me to become very creative in the process as well.  Stuffing an electrical cord into a PVC pipe is not as easy as it might appear.  Why don’t I just put Kelty outside?  Power, phone and cable lines.

     By now you might be wondering why I put up with the eccentricities of my little nightingales.  If not why, then how?

     I will honestly admit that thoughts of a trip to the local animal shelter have entered my mind.  More than once I threatened the Kitty Orphanage to them.  But these little ones do not know what a kitty orphanage is.  They have not experienced an animal shelter.  I, on the other hand, am quite familiar with the animal shelter and the hundreds of unwanted, abused, neglected and orphaned creatures sentenced to death for the crime of inconvenience and just being alive.  The kitties in my care appear only to know of their present moment.  They know where the food, water and litter pan is. They know where their toy basket filled with kitty toys is. They also know how to crawl up into my lap and rub their heads against my face.  They look into my eyes, studying my momentary mood.  Each kitty brings with it a unique story, a beginning.   Do they remember that beginning?  I don’t know the answer to that; perhaps one day I will.  What I do know of these “special needs” kitties is:
(1) they are alive
 (2) they have individual needs that must be met, and
(3) they cannot meet these needs alone.

      As much as I cherish some of my special possessions, in reality these so called ‘riches’ are no more than wood, hay and stubble.  In the grand scheme of things, they are ultimately kindling for the fiery inferno of desolation. These possessions are a thorn in my side when I choose to value them over a living creature. 

     I have been given a great gift through these kitties.  I am brought daily to my soul’s knees as I consider the value of life over the “stuff” of earth.  I cannot sentence a living creature to death because that creature did not act, behave or live in a manor worthy of my expectations, no matter how frustrated I become with the situation.
z  Life is a gift.
  Life is not a choice.

 Foibles?  I am queen of them.  If my singular idiosyncrasy in life was but a mere fixation towards electrical cords, I would be most grateful.  But it is not so.  My greatest foible?  I do not love.  If I loved, it would never enter my mind to destroy life and accumulate or hoard “stuff”.  I would be more like these kitties.  At the first ‘butt’ swat, I would be back up in the lap of my swatter, lavishing my affections and attentions upon him or her.  I would forgive immediately.  I would hold no wrath in my heart.  No ill thought would leave my mouth through my seared tongue. 

      I might feel insanity creep upon me the next time I walk into a room filled with downed and broken “stuff”,  but I commit to Life and to the lessons that I have learned and will continue to learn from life.  I will pick up my shattered pride along with the fragments of scattered junk across the floor—and I will sever the cord of selfishness and hate, once and for all.  When I lay these wee lives to rest one day, I will rest in peace knowing that I persevered and finished my imperfect and often tiresome race.  I don’t want a trophy or a prize at the end of the race.   I just want the assurance of knowing that these little creatures knew they were loved in this life.  That is all I truly need.

“Don’t hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it’s safe from moth and rust and burglars. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.  
Matthew 6:19-20 The Message

You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally

1 Corinthians 9:24-25 The Message

UPDATE:
Following a brief illness, Little Kelty Kayak's soul bounded through the thin veil that separates this life from the next, to enter a place of unending peace and playfulness.
Three  months later, she was joined by Rastus Augustus (Gus). 

I believe that we will all meet again.
I put my full trust in it! 
And oh, what a great day that will be!!
I miss you my precious ones.
We finished the race together.
Until we meet again,
I love you
and
Thank you!

Please do not breed or buy while homeless die.  Rescue and adopt a pet from your local animal shelter.

 Be responsible. 

 Spay and neuter your pets.

2020 Current update:
BJ Whiskers crossed that thin veil a few years ago at age16. 
Canoe was rehomed.
Alli continues to thrive.  She is 17 now. 
Since that group of special needs kitties, others have come and gone through rehoming.
I continue to hear little cries in the middle of the night, and continue to do what I can to rescue those fearful souls
and find loving homes for each of them.
Today I share my home with 17 year old Alli and 2 year old Judah.  Both came to me as
4 to 5 week old kitten rescues.
And I continue to visit 13 year old Canoe.