Sep 24 2010
Copeless
Morning light on my staircase
You know how they say mothers forget the pain of labor, and that allows them to have more children? I think the same rule applies to kittens.
I find myself saying (or thinking) “I don’t remember June and Audrey doing that” multiple times during the day. It probably took me five minutes to type these sentences, because of the kittens blocking my view, clawing at my hands, or climbing up my legs with their razor-sharp claws. If they’d just settle down when they sit on me in the morning, it would be fine.
But they don’t.
They mill around, sticking their butts and tails in my face, jockeying each other for position, kneading my bare skin with their needle claws, biting my nose, chewing my glasses and earrings, clawing at my hands as I type, walking back and forth to obscure my laptop, having fights all over me, jumping on and off me with the most possible emphasis on tender body parts and inflicting damage.
All while purring.
I have even found myself using my parents’ tried and true method of coping with too many rambunctious kids too early in the day: putting them outside while I drink coffee and achieve the necessary acceptance of being up at that hour. However, this strategy is complicated by the fact that whenever I stand up, they race into the studio, thinking it’s feeding time*, making it hard to capture and eject both of them. If I’m successful, they often sit by the sliding glass doors, mewing pitifully, so I feel guilty and mean. As usual in life, there are no good answers.
But sometimes, they just curl up on my shoulders, purring, and are incredibly adorable.
*I filmed their feeding frenzy and posted it on Facebook, but can’t figure out how to post it here.