Out Catted

This afternoon I was working on the copper roof of the grotto in the Garden of Many Groovy Things, when Margaret got into a tussle with what at first I believed to be a cougar, bobcat, wolf, or fox. I was immediately at her side to save her, yelling as any mother would, at whatever was fighting with my baby. The monster that was making Margaret yelp loudly enough for James to come running out of the house turned out to be . . . .. duh duh duh daaaaaaaaa!. . . .a killer kitten!

The golden yellow kitten, has white rings around it's tail and body. On either side, she has a white circle. She has strange yellow eyes, and by now, we are great friends.

But a lot went down before that came to be.

First of all, the kitten got free from Margaret (or vice versa) and the feline went up an oak tree. James took Margaret inside to inspect her booboos and keep her occupied while I tried to coax the terrified kitten out of the tree.

Yes, I stood at the base of the tree, reasoning logically and emotionally pleading with a feral cat for a long, long. . . . long time. Finally she came down, the last bit was a jump into/onto my arms, all claws extended.

That was when I noticed that this charming little monster was pretty fur over bones. So I snuck into the house and borrowed some of Margaret's special food. I set the food and some water out for her and then just sat back in the garden and read my mail.

Did the cat disappear? Nope

She came closer and closer to me until she was routinely rubbing against my hand, making occasional eye contact. Throughout this bonding time, I kept thinking that I heard another cat mewing. But I wrote that off as the imprint on my brain of the recent kitten rescue.

Later in the day, I was once again working in the GMGT and heard an increasingly loud mewing. My hearing isn't quite as acute as it used to was, so it's not always easy for me to track down a sound. But I finally pinpointed the noise. Yep. A yellow kitten way up in the oak tree. This time, the kitten was farther up the tree and much more timid. Why? I didn't know. I thought we'd become great pals.

I pleaded, I debated, I reassured. I told her she was a very strong, brave, kitty. I moved a hammock against the tree as a ladder. Did she come down the trunk?

Nope. She went out on the proverbial limb. I gave up several times and told her so. I sat down on my garden bench and tried to ignore her crying.

But this was no ordinary feline. This was a member of a gang of con kitties. An expert in the art of manipulation and emotional torture.

So I followed the kitten to the end of the limb, which hung low over the thyme garden. On my tiptoes, I reached up and grabbed larger and larger twigs, all the while encouraging, coaxing, pleading with the kitten to come down once again.

During one of m neck relief sessions, still holding down the limb, I noticed, a yellow kitten with white rings around it's tail and body, standing nearby, watching the whole fiasco.

What? Who?

So! There are two such strange kittens. One, who was rubbing against my ankles and purring, while her presumed sibling was crying just a foot out of my reach in the tree.

ARRRGGGHHHH! I'd been duped. . . . . . . Again.

One last reach and I grabbed (or was grabbed by) Yellow Kitten #2, who was quickly returned to terra firma, and scooted back into the woods.

Yellow Kitten #1, remained rubbing against my ankles. I asked her her name and she told me, "Miel," which is one of my favorite names and very appropriate for such a sweet, honey-colored kitty.

I made a comfy, cozy bed with a crocheted fluffy thing in a bucket in the grotto, fed her again, showed her where her fresh water was and gave it up for the night.

I may be hard-headed, but I know when I'm beat.

I'm grateful.