The Kittens are in the Rebellious Teen Phase

Go home, Kitten, you’re drunk.

But seriously, I walked into my bedroom today and found a kitten asleep in one of my shoes. The smell of tequila and regret wafting through the air mixed with Tidy Cats: Multiple Cats Formula cat litter smell. I sensed mischief.

I consider myself to be relaxed in my parenting style. I let Loki and Thor be themselves, even when it walks the line between good taste and Ke$ha. As long as they are not hurting themselves, I let them be. But this is where I draw the line.

Substance abuse. It’s a serious problem among our nation’s youth. And I will not enable my adopted children to become a statistic. First tequila… and then what, cat nip? And then, they’re going to go and knock up some stray on the street.

You can barely take care of yourself, Loki. I’m not even sure you know how to walk. How are you going to take care of a litter of kittens? How do you expect to provide for a family when all you’ve got is a scratching post and a plastic ball to your name?  Are you satisfied with that kind of life? I raised you better than this. 

No, you’re big adorable blue eyes will not sway me. Stop it. Drugs are bad. Stop trying to hypnotize me.  

I don’t care how cute you look asleep in the shoe. This is not acceptable behavior and I will not tolerate it under my roof. 

Dear God, it’s… so cute. I’m dying. Okay, stay with me forever. You are forgiven. 

- Daughter

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They Have Arrived: KITTENS

My apartment is now home to a mother cat (tentatively named Ginger Rogers) and her two crazy kittens whom we have named Loki and Thor. We don’t know their sexes yet but my kittens don’t subscribe to conventions like gender roles so it’s a moot point; they’re trailblazers in borderline gender identities in the feline community.

Ginger Rogers seems very displeased about the arrangement and Loki and Thor seem confused but content. On the way home from the shelter, all three went into a cardboard carrier. Ginge was not happy about this and shoved herself into a corner of the box, asking herself how she had gotten here. Knocked up at only one year old, the father not even in the picture… what was she doing with her life? But the kittens were quite the opposite: trampling all over each other in a brave attempt to discover the marvels of this cardboard wonderland.

L and T are completely unaware of their mother’s disdain for their existence as evidenced by their use of her body as a trampoline and a launching pad. That’s their main form of exercise besides clawing their way up my body via my clothes, using their claws as tiny, adorable grappling hooks.

Below are grainy, fuzzy photos of Loki, Thor, and Ginger Rogers. Sorry about the horrible quality. They were taken at night and the kittens would not stay still and pose even when I prompted them with encouraging comments, “Show me some personality, Loki! You’re a Norse god for Pete’s sake, SELL IT TO ME!!!”

Tomorrow, expect  high quality photos!

photo (2)

Right out of the can, no manners.

Right out of the can, no manners.

NOM.

NOM.

 

- Daughter

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