BONDED WITH MISS KITTY

BONDED WITH MISS KITTY

If you’ve never been awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of a mama cat and her six kittens all purring at the same time, you haven’t really experienced life. If they are just outside the closed bedroom door, Mama Cat pressed up against the door and the six kittens pressed up against her, nursing, and all humming like a freight train, it can sound like an electric lawn mower. In fact, that’s the first thing that would cross my mind when I was awakened. “Why is someone mowing the lawn at 2 AM?” followed by “There aren’t any lawn mowers out here in rural Havana. There aren’t any lawns.”

This heartless human would yank open the door, snatch up Mama Cat and head up the hall toward the living room, saying to the now crying kittens, “C’mon kids. Mama’s moving the lunch counter.” I’d place Miss Kitty ever so gently on the corner of the couch, back pressed up against the soft cushions, and carefully lift each tiny, crying, black fluffball up next to Mama’s tummy, one nipple per kitty, Thank God. Now, wasn’t that much more comfy than that old floor? (And comfortably out of earshot of the bedroom, too.)

Back to bed I’d go, feeling a little guilty but also a little smug. Sure enough, can’t hear them from the bedroom now.

4 AM. The lawnmower again.

It’s clearly Miss Kitty’s doing. The kittens will be wherever Mama is. But Miss Kitty is sharing this experience with me. It has been like this ever since she gave birth to the kittens practically sitting in my lap. In fact, she did sit in my lap all through labor, with her big fat belly tensing up and her back legs straightening out like she was trying to reach the top of the counter—except she was horizontal in my lap. She only left my lap and crouched on the floor next to my leg when the first kitten crowned, and after that they came too fast for her to crawl back in my lap again. Plus, she had work to do, licking, and nuzzling, and nursing, and purring. Apparently she and I had bonded during these magical moments and she wasn’t about to leave me out of the special events that go with raising kittens. Like feeding them every two hours.

Her motto now was: If I’m up, you’re up.