Famke and Her Kittens
In my last blog post, I mentioned that my sweet stray-cat friend Famke had had kittens and that she’d hidden them somewhere in our yard. At that time, about a month ago now, I was wishing that Famke would trust me enough to show her kittens to me, and, well, shortly after I published my post, my wish came true. The next morning I was sitting on the back steps when Famke came running up with a kitten in her mouth! She deposited this kitten just a few feet away from me, behind a tea olive, near the foundation of the house, under the shelter of the breezeway’s awning. Then she disappeared for a few minutes and returned with another kitten! And then another! For several days, Famke cared for her three kittens behind the tea olive. The newborn kittens were unbelievably small and resembled little moles with their velvet-like fur and their closed eyes.
Soon Famke moved the kittens into our garage, and we started feeding her (a ton) in there. Our garage is spectacularly messy and cluttered, jam-packed with junk and full of great hiding places, and Famke found a safe, cozy (but dirty!) spot for her babies behind a rusty trellis and my car’s old cargo cover. The kittens spent several weeks snuggling and wiggling in this weird little starter home. Then Famke moved them to a new spot, under the gross old couch that resides in the garage—and that’s where they cuddled and played and stayed perfectly dry as Hurricane Helene drenched the garage’s tin roof with eight inches of rain. We were lucky; we made it through the storm all right.
In their first few weeks of life, the kittens were drowsy and snuggly and mostly lay about looking like mini burritos, but now, at five weeks old, they’re showing so much personality. Two of the kittens are boys and one’s a girl, and we named them Kermit, Hermie, and Hattie. They’re very entertaining! It’s delightful to sit in our disgusting garage and watch them peek through the slats of a wooden pallet or try to scale the side of the couch like it’s a filthy mountain.
Yesterday Rob and I were sitting in the garage, watching the kitten show, and I said, “This is the most un-baby-proofed place in the entire world!”
“It’s a rich environment though,” Rob said. “It’s probably very stimulating to a kitten’s mind. There’s so much to explore!”
Well, I guess that’s true.
Hermie, who is chubby and very babyish, likes to play on our old, broken vacuum. He has the dumbest ideas for fun. Often he will try to copy Hattie, who is the bravest and most adventurous of the kittens, and end up in a bit of a pickle—stuck halfway up the side of the couch, for example. He’ll cry in his teeny, tiny, high-pitched voice, and I’ll come and rescue him.
Hattie is a real spitfire. She likes to wrestle her brothers when they’re sleepy and attempting to nap. She also enjoys batting at and pouncing on her mother’s tail. Another cute thing Hattie does is gaze at you with her small head slightly cocked as if she finds you very curious and fascinating.
Kermit likes to play when Famke is giving him his bath. The other day he was lying on his back as she licked his round tummy, and he was trying to wrestle her and kick her gently in the face with his dainty, soft, ineffectual little feet. The scene was just too cute, and Famke dealt with her son’s behavior patiently but firmly.
The kittens are becoming bolder and more inquisitive each day. When they’re not sleeping, they’re “going bananas,” as Rob says. Today when I came into the garage after work, little Hattie was climbing on our pitch fork, there was a huge dead frog in the middle of the floor (I believe Famke introduced the poor frog for training purposes), and the kittens’ bed had been used (multiple times, apparently) as a litter box.
I wish I could keep these crazy kids, but I have six elderly indoor cats who would be extremely upset if I made any new additions. I’m working on finding the kittens (and Famke) a forever home. I know they’ll make some lucky person or people deliriously happy.
