The Monster Who Gave Me a Litter of Kittens

Something I had ALWAYS wanted

I have written here and here about Merlin, my furry buddy who I miss each and every day. In those stories I lauded him as the smartest and most athletic cat I’d ever known.

But I neglected to mention that Merlin was also absolutely fearless and intimidating when it came to protecting our domain.

If a neighbor cat wandered onto the deck, a mere glare from Merlin would send that cat away. Not just scampering away. Running away at 90 mph. No need for Merlin to even arch his back. The Merlin glare was all it took.

Merlin protected me, too.

At one time I had an issue with a raccoon and her two cubs coming through the cat door in the basement en route to the next floor up for some tasty Fancy Feast. Raccoons are darn cute, but I didn’t think this was a wise practice.

So I’d go down there to shoo them off. But they weren’t the least bit afraid of me. Usually they’d just leave out of boredom.

But one night Merlin decided he’d take matters into his own paws. He squeezed between my ankles, took up a front line position, and made it perfectly clear to the raccoons that they had to leave. Now! Which they did, exiting post haste.

I mention this as a preface to Merlin meeting The Monster.

The Monster was a neighbor cat who began frequenting my deck. And unlike the other neighbor cats, The Monster was not the least bit afraid of Merlin. In fact, it was the exact opposite. Merlin was afraid of The Monster. Yikes! (I’d named the cat The Monster just to needle Merlin.)

The Monster dropped by more and more often, then started coming inside through the cat door. Then The Monster just packed her bags and moved out of her house across the street and into my house. This was a rational decision by The Monster — the people across the street were total jerks.

Merlin and The Monster made some kind of an uneasy truce. Social distancing for cats, I guess you could call it. And I put The Monster’s food bowl on an entirely different floor, so there was no real reason for their paths to cross.

And then The Monster got fat. Like real fat.

The Monster was pregnant!

As I watched her grow larger and larger I fired up the Google Machine to learn how to tell when a cat is about to have babies. (By this time I had renamed The Monster as ‘Mama Cat’.)

One of the signs of the closely impending birthing is extreme affection. Mama Cat had never been affectionate, but then came the time when she rubbed up against my ankles, purring loudly.

It’s time!

So I pulled out the bed I’d made for Mama Cat and her soon-to-be new kittens. And she stayed in her bed. It really was time!

I felt like I was being intrusive watching this. But I did. And in short order Mama Cat was the proud parent of three little adorable kittens. I marveled at these amazing little creatures, new to the world.

And then . . . after awhile she had another kitten! About half the size of her siblings. A runt. So once again I scrambled to the Google Machine. The runt might not survive. And if it did it might have medical problems. Possible ‘Fading Kitten Syndrome’, which would not be good.

But! Dweedle, as I named her (seemed like a good name for a runt) had none of those problems. She didn’t grow as large as her siblings, but she won the beauty contest with her luxurious long white fur. She was my pick of the litter.

p.s. about the raccoons: I searched the internets for a solution to the raccoons coming into the house. Simple, proclaimed many sites. Just put the cat food up on a counter. Because RACCOONS CAN’T JUMP! Well, don’t believe everything you read online, because I can tell you from first hand experience that raccoons can jump just fine — up on my counter. I ultimately resolved the issue by making the cat door too small for Mama Raccoon, and her babies wouldn’t venture inside without Mama’s leadership. And I set up a Raccoon Restaurant for them outside. They liked corn on the cob best.