About Me

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I AM: wife to 1, mother to 3, sister to 2 and 5 steps, aunt to 27, not-so-much-a-chocoholic-anymore, coffee loving, cloth diapering wanna be (my youngest potty trained herself recently), friend to many.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

(Grim reaper music playing in the background)
While I was weeding the tomatoes and green peppers I heard a little kitten meowing. I was smiling to hear the little fellow. I kept weeding. Then I heard my oldest monkey screaming, "NOooo LadyBird!!!" So I look up and see her in hot pursuit of the boxer dog. The boxer had the kitty in its mouth and was running and shaking it like it was a chew toy. We got the kitty from the dog. Dear daughter took the kitty to the porch to nurse it and I no more than got another weed pulled when I heard another kitty meowing. I ran to investigate and found yet another kitty in that dog's mouth! I rescued the kitty and ordered daughter to put the dog on a leash and tie it to the porch. Daughter was sobbing. She did as she was told. I got to looking over the kitties. The 2nd kitten was fine; just had a little doggy drool in her hair. But the first kitty was not so lucky. I could tell by looking at it that something was very very wrong. She didn't have any "out ward" injuries, but she wasn't moving. About 30 minutes later, I pronounced her dead. Darling daughter sobbed and sobbed. These kittens were born a few weeks ago to our neighbor/landlord's wild cats. They stayed on her back porch for a few days, then the mama cat moved the kitties. We didn't know for two weeks where she had moved the little babies until one evening my oldest monkey went on a quest to find them. And she did!!! They were well hidden in a place we do not venture to. A space we don't invade. The well house. Since her discovery, daughter has gone to visit the kittens daily. She has named all three: Starbucks (see, she is my kind of kid), Navy Blue (her absolute favorite), and Mittens (actually named by my middle monkey). The dog killed Navy Blue. Daughter keeps asking, "Why did it have to be MY kitten she killed?" What she fails to realize, and it really is a hard pill to swallow, is that the kitten who isn't really hers, was killed by a dog who really wasn't "ours". I can think of it like that and not be overcome with grief. But to an 11 year old girl, That dog killed Her cat. Nothing I can say right now will change her mind. And that is why I am not going to tell her how I see it. When her daddy gets home today, we will be having a kitty funeral.


  1. So sorry for your(?) loss. In memory of Navy Blue whom technically wasn't your kitten to begin with.

  2. Hee hee. We didn't have a kitty funeral. The gully was the proper burial place. Thrown in, but not forgotten...