Aliens, Critters, and Dinosaurs

The Adoption of White Mittens

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Dear Mother,

         It was so hard not to bite the hands that took me from you. I wanted to, but I remembered just in time how you had warned me not to.

         They put me in a box-like room in order to carry me. It had a wire window, open to the air, but still it was a box. And the man carrying it, swung it back and forth as he walked. It made me feel sick. Besides, I don’t think we cats should ever be caged; it is against all cathood.

         I was ungently put onto the floor of a strange beast-like vehicle. It rumbled and vibrated. I almost wet myself, Mother. I was that frightened.

         At last the vehicle stopped, and the man picked up my box. Again he carried me with that swinging motion that caused my stomach so much distress. But he did not take me far before I was removed and placed inside a larger box. That one was overly noisy. Barking and meowing assaulted me from every direction. I crouched in the corner and shivered with cold terror.

         Mysterious and confusing smells saturated the air. My nose grew sore from sniffing them. It was so much worse than the odors I’d observed in the vehicle. The pound stank from hordes of vicious animals, suspicious strangers, and so many loathsome chemicals I could no longer sort the dangers. I buried myself in the shredded newspaper of my cage and hid from it all.

         Later when I bravely stood up and began to explore, I noticed people passing by. I meowed for help, but they ignored me. That evening someone gave me food and water, but the hand that reached into my cage took not even a moment to fondle me. The pound is not a nice place to visit, Mother.

         The next day, the wired window of my cage opened up occasionally, and sometimes people’s hands stretched in. I always meowed when a hand approached. I remembered just what you’d said about how to get chosen quickly. I brushed my head against the hand. I licked it. I purred. I did all the things you told me to do.

         The second day, the hand reaching in, lifted me up and out. Then it held me against its beating heart. I liked that part, Mother. I purred in time to the person’s heartbeat. I must have done it correctly. The lady handed me to the child next to her.

         The little girl did not know how to hold me right, and I meowed in fear. I couldn’t help my claws taking hold of her shirt, but I was careful not to hurt her. She held me a moment. Her hand softly, almost teasingly, caressed my head. It was easy to purr loudly for her.

         I did not want to be passed on, but the girl did so. A boy held me next. His hand was not so gentle, but he stroked under my chin, and I smiled and licked him. He laughed, which startled me. My eyes opened wide, and I stared into his face. He had eyes the same color as mine. From that moment, Mother, I loved him.

         Thankfully, it was those people who took me home. It was a short journey. I stayed in the boy’s hands, but I did not purr. I was too frightened. The boy continued to stroke my jowls and chin. I was distracted slightly by such delightful caresses. Thanks to him, I endured the ride.

         My new home is superlative. There are small mountains to climb where the people sometimes sit. I have obstacles to jump over and run around. The people have even supplied me with hanging things that I can bat about with my paws, and run in and out of.

         And the boy – best of all is the boy. He pulls the most intriguing string in front of me. Then he picks me up and kisses me. He is warm and soft. Sometimes I snuggle up against his neck and catnap on his shoulder, and I like it very much when he takes me for a ride. The world looks very different from a giant’s shoulder.

         The little girl plays with me at times. She likes to hide behind the largest of the mountains and dart out at me. I chase her around the rooms, and she giggles with that high-pitched voice that the boy startled me with that first time. The girl does not sit much, so I do not crawl into her lap as I do the others, but she wears milk scent. So when she sleeps, I curl up beside her and dream of you.

         The big people are not half bad either. The woman feeds me regularly, although she always tries to get my boy to do it. But he is often playing games and ignores her calls. She sighs then and puts down my plate of food.

         The man tries hard to take no notice of me, but I cheer him up by pouncing on his papers. At times I attack his shoestrings, and he bends down and pets me as he pulls me away.

         I have chosen his pillow as my resting spot. It is large enough to pat soft. His sleeping roost is not filled with uncomfortable plastic toys, as is my boy’s. Sometimes the woman scolds me for sleeping there, but more and more she is ignoring it. I think I am progressing nicely with my training of her.

         Yes, Mother, you were quite right. I am very happy in my new home. How smart we cats are to farm ourselves off with these much larger creatures. They are so innocent and sweet that they adapt well to ownership, and they certainly do make congenial pets.




                                                                                         With love,
                                                                                         White Mittens




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