Chapter 18

We have nine ... count 'em ... nine interesting nearly identical kittens. They have enough variation in their spots that they are identifiable, it's a mind teaser but it is possible. Mom left us when they were seven weeks old. So, bottle fed babies. With nine of the little buggers, it's a chore. At nine weeks they weren't ready to be weened ... are we ever?

At least, Pyewacket was around long enough to get them past the icky part. The icky part is where she used the roughness and pressure of her tongue to induce bowel and urinary movement.

Don't even think about me doing that. They graduated to the litter box just before Pye in the Sky; if there's a cat heaven.

She hasn't come back and it's been nearly three weeks.

Now cleanliness is not a problem, they swim in the pool daily. A quick rub with a towel and they're off to the sandbox. These are DESERT cats and they dig in the dirt. We put in about a half acre of sand and flatish rocks. The kits have a warren of hidey-holes.

One thing for sure ... they hate commercial baby food. Kitten Chow is worse. So ... I spend...

"Who spends?" asked Wendy.

So ... Wendy spends a couple of hours a week...

"How many?" kibitzing Wendy speaks.

So ... Wendy spends a couple of hours a day ... here I look up. Wendy is smiling.

A couple of hours a day fixing kitten food. Pureed chicken, beef and pork ... Yes dear.

There's a couple of finicky eaters who absolutely have to have turkey. Okay?

And tuna ... not canned ... tuna ... from the natural foods supermarket all the way across town. We've worn out ... Alright already!

Wendy wore out two blenders in two weeks! One in three days and a brand new one in 11. Now we ... Wendy ... has a Vitamix. Cost the earth but it's metal and glass. The old ones were plastic and left pieces of plastic in the kitten food during self-destruction.

The resentment of nine kittens when Wendy noticed the plastic gook and snatched the food away ... oh my. They were indignant.

Wendy is not caring for the kittens alone. No. Annabelle Carson, sweet sixteen, the driver of the car that seems to be responsible for the disappearance of Pye, has become a permanent fixture. An attractive nuisance is what she is. Very attractive. Boy magnet. MALE magnet.

When Pye became whatever flatcats become, Annabelle was fleeing an abusive home situation. Stepdad. It's complicated.

Okay, I'll tell it.

They started out like most families; brass spoons. Not the lowest but far from the highest. Mr. Carson was a budding engineer; Mrs. Carson was a new nuclear physicist. Oak Ridge was good to both of them.

Annabelle was a precocious child ... an only child.

Something happened at the plant. It's Classified!

No more kids! The government offered an enormous settlement. Included in the settlement was lifetime employment.

The pendulum swing saw Mr. Carson promoted to Engineering Safety. Life was good. They bought their home from the government when Congress decided to cut back on maintenance expense.

Annabelle was in the Sixth grade when Chief Safety Inspector Carson had an electrical accident at work; some party unknown closed a breaker. Dad died.

Another settlement.

Not two years later, Mom married Bob Callahan. Shortly after Mrs. Callahan was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. It was quick. Two weeks later, Mom died.

Within two months stepdad Bob married his secretary. When Annabelle turned 15, the secretary stepmom divorced Bob ... the money ... all those lovely tax free millions weren't his;they belonged to Annabelle; stepmom blew up in court, stepdad was awarded custody.

Annabelle blossomed. Most heterosexual males and many women were attracted to the raving beauty she had become. Stepdad decided Annabelle was going to be his toy. The afternoon of the accident, Annabelle had smacked Bob with a rubber mallet and fled in her car.

When all was said and done, Annabelle was living with Wendy, David and the nine cats.