We have kittens! We’ve had them since December, actually. My Instagram is now a 24/7 all-kitten channel, mostly because I really need a haircut and I miss travel and my balcony, while still my beautiful oasis, doesn’t need to be shared daily.
I’ve had cats almost my entire life, but I’ve never had cats that actually liked each other. Ed had agreed that the next time we were in the market for a cat (so, all the time) we could get a pair. I had tried several times to adopt through our usual rescue associations, but most of BC had the same idea during the pandemic and I didn’t get any responses to the inquiries I submitted.
Then, Chris happened. Chris is the awesome gent who runs the Grist Mill and Gardens up in Keremeos. We met in the early days of social media in Vancouver, and he was always down to show us the proper way to murder people or come to our parties (remember those?) without pants on. Oh, and then there was the shot I invented that had a meatball in it, and the hot dog with a Twinkie for a bun. Suffice it to say, Chris is awesome people even when he DOESN’T have kittens he needs to home.
Close as I can remember, it wasn’t actually my decision to adopt the kittens. Chris posted on social media that he had found some feral barn cats that needed a home, and as there is much overlap in our respective social circles, someone remembered that I had been Desperately Seeking Kittens and volunteered that I would adopt them. I had many thoughts about this, all of them being “YAY KITTENS!!”, but I had to do some fast-talking to get Ed onboard. Ed has a bad habit of sometimes agreeing to things I suggest just to appease me, without thinking it’ll actually happen – this has come back to bite him in the ass many times, because I am a planner. You don’t say “yes” to a planner, because I will find a way to make it happen. I am very stubborn that way.
Okay so the universe had decided I was going to adopt these kittens, and who am I to bet against the universe. Chris had plans to drive into Vancouver for other, non-kitten related business, so he arranged to bring them by our place. A great plan! Except while loading the kittens into his car, one of them escaped and disappeared. It took four days of webcams and tuna, but the missing kitten finally showed herself and was re-scooped for delivery. It felt kind of weird being so worried about an animal I hadn’t even met yet, but I was well-sold on the idea of this particular bonded pair of kittens so it was a few days of heartache until we got word she had been found. Kitten delivery was a go!
Chris arrived at our place on a Tuesday morning with a box full of kittens, who quickly escaped the cardboard confines to explore their new home. The kittens were tiny little gingers, a brother and sister pair:
They were home, but what they hell were we going to name them? We decided to each pick a name, because Ed leans towards the traditional and I am much more of a long florid name with a complicated backstory kind of person. I mulled over a whole lot of ginger-cat names and liked several, but was still holding back on any food-related names because I have serious issues in dire need of therapy.
When we first got word that girl kitten was missing, I made a deal with myself: if she was found, I would name her Sunny after this song. It had gotten stuck in my head while I was doing all my worried pacing and it seemed really fitting. Sunny’s name was decided before she arrived, but what were we going to name the boy kitten?
Ed decided on “Rocky” for a name, which I wasn’t crazy about because it is very traditional. It also didn’t really seem to fit: Sunny was a very cautious, skittish kitten, but her brother was very .. bombastic. He does everything very bigly. He also looks like a little lion, and deserved a better name than something as pedestrian as “Rocky”. We tossed a lot of names back and forth, but one seemed a little stickier than the others: every time he did something cute, we’d say “Look at him, <doing whatever he was doing at the time> – just like a little Rory Calhoun!”
We shook on it, and his name officially became Roary J Calhoun. The J stands for J. It’s a thing.
The kittens have been with us for six months now, and we can’t really imagine life without them. We had high hopes for an entertaining bonded pair, but Chris somehow accidentally gave us two of the best kittens we have ever had the privilege of meeting: they’re (too) smart, affectionate, cuddly, curious, and stinky little beacons of joy. Sunny is also one of the prettiest kittens I’ve ever seen – just LOOK AT HER:
Gahhh. I cannot even. Roary is much less dainty than his sister, but he’s also the most affectionate cat I’ve ever had: when he decides it’s time to love me, I really have no choice in the matter. If I don’t pick him up when he asks (he asks like a toddler wanting to be held: stretches his arms out and chirps at me, often going under my skirt like a perverted Rory Calhoun), he will jump onto me from wherever he is. It’s his favourite game in the kitchen, which adds an element of terror because I’ll be chopping things or at the stove and the next thing I know a 12-pound flying bear attacks me from behind to roll around on my shoulders like a drunk seal. It’s hilarious and scary and adorable. Even when it hurts.
Both kittens have had all their shots, several bouts of medication due to the parasites they picked up while living rough, and were spayed/neutered in early spring (we already have one inbred cat; don’t need anymore). They’re happy and healthy and while Dilly and Lemon are not 100% on Team Kittens, they’ve made our apocalyptic homebound days much easier to deal with.
If you’ll excuse me, I have some kitten snuggling to do.