I suppose the burning question on everyone’s mind is: what was the deal with the orange poo catastrophe? If not, I’m sorry, but the explanation is coming,

Upon walking into the Nursery one morning, orange kitten poo was all over the wood floors, the throw rugs, the bed comforter (this was a guest room turned nursery, recall), and inside the litter box. Also inside the litter box were kittens. Playing in kitten poo. I am not sure how many of you have had kittens, but they explore every aspect of their environment – it’s how they learn. Like kids. Toddlers, in fact. Perpetual toddlers.

Anyway, six innocent eyeballs belonging to six-week old kittens looked up at me – the boys taking a moment out from wrestling in the litter box to do so. Mama Kitty looked up at me with weary, parental eyes.

So. Much. Orange. I tried not to freak out, closed the door and ran to get my mom.

“Mom, the room is covered with orange poo. What is wrong with them? Do they have dysentery? What do I do? We’ll have to throw out the entire room…”

She opened the door and greeted the feline fam calmly. Door closed gently.

“Ame, call the vet. I have no idea what is going on. I’ve never seen this before.”

I called, frantic. “Six weeks old, Yes, orange poo. All over the room. What food am I feeding the mother? Um, I don’t know, dry cat food.” I shrugged at my mom. “Does it have food coloring in it? Let me check.” I checked. “Yes, it has red and yellow dye. The mother’s milk is orange due to the food coloring, and the kittens’ poo is orange because of this?” I slowly repeated so my mom could hear. “Yes, we’ll change the food immediately. Thanks, doctor.”

And we did. No more orange poo. When they weaned off breast milk, we started them on wet food. Then gradually shifted to dry food as they got big boy and big girl teeth.

Pro tip: funny thing about kittens, they try to eat cat litter. Therefore, do not use clumping litter when you have young, untrained kittens. They will eat it and it could kill them. I would not introduce clumping litter until at least one year old. And beware, when you try to switch, they could go out on a “litter box strike.” I tried the switheroo, and all of my cats held their bladders overnight. Needless to say, I was at the nearest store buying non-clumping cat litter at 7am. I have not tried to switch ever again.

Anyway, as the kittens grew, we could no longer contain them to the guest room. We let them out to roam the house, but not before kitten-proofing everything. They are perpetual toddlers, remember. And yet, they still found ways to create havoc. The two boys, Rafa and Bubba were buds, and co-signed on most of the trouble. Susie quickly became pair-bonded to Mama Kitty. She would not leave her mama’s side. She loved her mother deeply, almost from the day she was born.

The boys… *deep inhale* My mom wanted to give them away. Tried, in fact. Each attempt failed, which pleased me, as I did not want to split up the feline family. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I got my wish: we kept all of the kittens, and the mama, too.

Life carried on in a maniacal, chaotic manner. The human first to leave in the morning left a note regarding the kittens’ status: fed, watered, sleeping, on a tear, etc. The last human to leave had to make sure the house was as kitten-proof as possible. Everything you would anticipate a human toddler attempting, kittens will do.

Before I forget, if there are any people reading this who are not familiar with cat behavior, or who fancy themselves not cat people, kittens must be taught by humans how to treat humans. That it’s not ok to wrestle with hands or to bite – these are acceptable and expected behaviors within the feline community, but not acceptable interaction with humans. Starting from a young age, kittens must always be handled with care: gently pet, gently picked up. Never, ever use your hand as a toy to tease or poke the kitten: this is how you get cats who bite for fun or who are perceived as aggressive. It leads to people not liking cats and cats being misjudged and feared. It also leads to unloved and abused cats, which saddens me greatly. Also, if a kitten accidentally claws you, do not make a big deal out of it. Say “Ouch!” in a firm manner, and then, “No. We don’t use claws,” in a gentle but firm tone. This is how you raise cats to be gentle and aware of their own nail status – i.e. my cats never intentionally claw me. Not once. If they feel skin under their claws, they retract the claws. Another thing: if you ever are accidentally clawed by a cat during play, do not make a fuss out of it. Hold in your painful yelp. Remove yourself from the play area and clean your wound immediately. Return to the play area. When cats know they have wounded you, they feel terrible. You are a part of their pride, so they don’t want to hurt you. Therefore, it’s best to stifle your scream of pain and go and clean your wound. Come back to the group ready to play, but perhaps with a toy that is less hands-on.

Back to my little cat family. Their personalities formed along with their bodies. Mama Kitty (full grown) was a sweet, loving, anxious but playful girl. She never wanted to escape the house again. Having her babies gave her life a purpose and allowed her to break free from anxiety most of the time. It surfaced when we moved our feet, when men entered the house, or when we wore dark pants. We surmised she was kicked by a man who wore dark pants. Thank goodness she found us when she did. Bubba was a gray fluff of chaos. He was loving, gregarious, and “helpful” (plumbers’ apprentice, anyone?) to anyone who came in to do household repairs. He was lazy, silly, weird and watchful. He knew when I was sick and would rest with me. He adored Susie, Susie wanted him unalive. Rafa was sweet, the caretaker and nurse cat to his feline family. He would groom them all. He was a lap cat, and he liked to lick my hair and shoulders. (I guess I didn’t do well enough grooming myself.) Susie was a sweet but shy girl. I was her favorite human, but she was my mom’s favorite cat. She was always at a disadvantage with two brothers. But they did all play together. They played tag, and they vocalized who was “it” by unique sounds. Many times I’d hear Rafa calling “Bubba!” and Bubba asking “Henlo?” as they ran around in circles, up and down the stairs. I’d play tag with them, too. We’d also play a game where I would flick pieces of dry food at them on the kitchen floor and they would catch them with their hands, pick them up, and pop them into their mouths. Bubba, as fat as he grew to become, was able to catch them with his mouth, mid-air. Rafa, sleek like a panther, needed tiny cat glasses, because without fail he could not catch them, and any thrown into the air would hit him in the face, not the mouth. Bless his clumsy heart. Susie was warp speed with her “hunting” prowess. Female cats usually are better at hunting games – in nature, they are the providers of food, and they are supreme huntresses.

I could go on and on about cats, my cats and about their kittenhood, but I’d write an entire book. Hopefully the photos capture what it was like having three kittens running rampant. I adored each stage as they moved into adulthood, and so did my mom - though she would deny it to anyone silly enough to believe her.

Part IV is next – Adulthood.

Read Part One here , and Part Two here.

©2024, itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved.

It all started with Mama Kitty.

She was a pretty Tortie, a green-eyed stray with a home. I know, that seems paradoxical, but in reality she was. Her home was about four houses down from mine. She would walk the fence in the backyard to come to my house. As is the case with the Cat Distribution System, we couldn’t figure out why she began to show up. But as this is a cat house, cats who show up get fed.

Mama Kitty was different. An anxiety suffer for most of my life, I could tell that she suffered from panic attacks and anxiety. Any attempt to bring her into the house to eat on the landing, she would run away. After a time, she would enter the house to eat, but the door had to remain open for her to have a clear escape. I know all too well that feels like. Anxiety is stifling and the flight response is overwhelming. Once she was done eating, she would go back outside and disappear for a few days. She slept on our front porch glider that was covered for winter.

It was during the late winter of February/March 2008 when one day we noticed Mama Kitty was a bit round in the belly. A few pets to the area revealed what we didn’t need a vet to tell us: Mama Kitty was pregnant. Capturing her to bring her into the warmth of the house became of utmost importance. As I mentioned, it was winter. If she’d had the babies outside, they all would’ve died. As I’ve also mentioned, Mama Kitty had an anxiety disorder. Getting her in the house without causing a full-blown panic attack was going to be challenging, if not impossible. The guest room became a nursery.

We prepared a large cardboard box with old sheets inside and placed it in the closet on the floor. This would serve as the birthing area. Cats will seek out confined areas that are private in which to give birth. After several attempts to capture Mama Kitty, we succeeded, but she was terrified. Our course of action was to place her into the guestroom and shut the door. I would visit the room and coax her out to eat and have a gentle scratch or two (hundred). She was a very loving, sweet cat – but she was terrified of men, dark pants and boots. (You can guess why.) She eventually ventured out of the nursery and was comfortable enough to sit on my lap in the living room.

It was one such occasion that she was on my lap and I was rubbing her. She allowed me to rub her belly, and I often felt the babies rolling around and kicking each other. There was one baby that was very active and seemed larger than the others. We could count three with our hands, but weren’t sure about a fourth. Mama Kitty was not a very large cat. She was quite small, in fact, so we weren’t quite sure where she would store a fourth baby.

On the early evening of April 15, 2008, Mama Kitty was enjoying a relaxing massage in my lap when she suddenly stood up and quickly jumped to the floor. I noticed after she jumped that there was water on my lap. Her waters had broken and she was in labor.

Stay tuned for Part II . . .

©️2024 itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved

Join me for Part One of a new series entitled, “Not My Cat™️.”

I first noticed Star in 2016, after new neighbors moved in. Star moved in with her two dog brothers and her human family. I walked past “her” house on many occasions. Shortly after Star and her family moved in, I noticed her sitting on the front stoop. Because I am unable to walk past a cat without calling out to it and trying to get it to come to me, I slowed down my pace in front of Star’s house. Star glanced over. She was intrigued, perhaps sensing I speak Cat, and made her way over to me. She sniffed then rubbed my hand. This was the beginning of our friendship. Much to my surprise, it was also the beginning of Star walking with me on my walks. I had never known a cat to walk with a person before, nor have I met another.

And so it went. I would round the corner and Star would strut at her own pace down the driveway to meet me, and we would commence our walk. The whole time, I whispered to her that she should go back home. It wasn’t safe. There were dogs and cars. She did often stop eventually and returned home on her own.

As spring turned to summer, I saw Star’s human father, and told him that I loved his cat. He told me that she runs the house. She was a feral stray at one point and she does what she wants. Her two dog brothers were much larger than she, but I witnessed Star corral the two dogs after they had escaped the fenced backyard. She went out to the driveway where they were, hissed and swatted at each of them until she could get them back to the fence. Star was very tiny, but very, very mighty. She reminded me of my own cat, Kitty. Kitty has been long since gone but Star had her personality. And star was aptly named.

One sweltering summer day, I looked out my window and saw members of Star’s human family walking their two dogs. Then I saw Star trailing behind, her humans oblivious to her struggle to keep up. It was so very hot and I knew she was an elderly cat. I scrambled out of my house to get Star. I scooped her up, but she didn’t want to be scooped up. So, I tried to bring her some water. But she didn’t want any water. She kept walking, so I walked her home. We went very slowly as you can imagine an elderly cat in humid, hot weather would move. I felt awful that I could not pick her up, but she was not willing to be held. We reached her home and I knocked on the closed door. I had trouble holding back my anger and concern. I said, rather rudely, “I found your cat. She’s old and she’s hot and probably needs to come in and drink water immediately.” I was met with a couple of blank stairs from a couple of teenagers. I hope that they let Star in that day, even if she didn’t want to come in, and that she had all the water she could drink.

I didn’t see Star after that day. I walked daily, and as each day passed and I still didn’t see her, I knew that Star was among the stars. A star. I have a picture of Star hanging in my kitchen along with many photos of cats that I’ve met or have been owned by in my life. She fits right in. And yet, she doesn’t. She shines bright. ✨

©️2023, itsamyisaid.com, All Rights Reserved.