In Which I Became a Cat-Hater.

We have four kittens. We don't want four kittens. Based on that fact, I set out on an adventure today. I was going to go door to door in Falkner and the outlying houses and give them away. Nothing could be easier, right?

Wrong.

Ho, boy, was I ever wrong.

At the first three houses, I couldn't get anybody to the door. At two of those houses, dogs exploded into barking when I rang the doorbell. So, I'm betting those people wouldn't have wanted a free kitten anyway. At the fourth place, there were about six kittens running around. Darn. I decided to try in spite of appearances being definitely against me. A nice man came to the door, and a nice woman followed. No, they didn't want another kitten. "This is sort of a drop off place," the lady said. "People just leave their kittens on our road. Can you imagine that?"
Me: (thinking, of course,) "Dadgummit, why did I have to knock on the door and ask? If I'd known that you considered yourself kitten haven, I sure would have been here sooner. Here, as in, here on your road, not here at your door." But I didn't say that, because I was still laboring under the delusion that I would find some eager cat adorer who wanted four kittens really badly. I wasn't desperate. Yet.

Did I mention that getting the two kittens, (I decided to just try two, since it was hard enough getting them in the box for me to know I didn't want to maneuver four,) in and out at each place was maddeningly difficult? And painful? I have a lovely red scratch on my left hand from one of their desperate attempts to crawl over the steering wheel and onto the dashboard. If it hadn't been Laura's car, I would've let them go where e'er their scared little hearts wished. But it was, so I didn't. Every time we got back in the car after a rejection, we had a little routine going. I slid in with the kittens still in my hands. I shut the door with my foot. I cranked the car, and on cue one of them screeched and clawed his way up my front, leaving precious reminders of his presence at every step. From their howls, you would've thought I was proposing to set them loose in a room full of wild jaguars. Or was ramming splinters under their nails. (That actually happened to me yesterday. A large, thick splinter went in all the way down to the bottom of my nail. It hurt like crazy. And bled when Mama wrenched it out with tweezers. Yes, tweezers. Underneath my fingernail.)

Let me just tell you, it was miserable. The kitten maneuvering and the splinter. But right now I'm telling about the kitten maneuvering.

We pulled up to another house. Oh, there's two dog statues on the porch. Yeah, I'm guessing they don't want a cat. Another house. The nice man said he'd love a kitten, but he and his wife are truck drivers and are gone for long stretches of time. Thanks alot, buddy. Yet another house. This lady asked me if I was Kathy Nutt's daughter. Yes, I am. She knew mama and I looked just like her. (That was the bright spot of this whole day, in case you're wondering whether there was one.) Now up we go to a junky place. The man says he doesn't even like cats. I assure him I don't either. (which isn't even close to a lie by this point.) At the next house, my presence causes the owner's tied up dog to half strangle himself in his chain. She, (the owner,) isn't very happy with me. Sorry! Nobody's home at the next, but there are two dishes of cat food sitting on the front porch. I seriously consider leaving the imps, (who have by this time figured out how to lift the lid on their plastic container all the way off, even when it's latched,) as a little surprise for the people, but decency prevails. Barely.

Then, the crowning event of the entire day. At the last house, I ring the doorbell. Cue about five inside dogs barking. Okay, just kidding. Sir, I'm sorry to bother you. Probably don't want a free kitten, do you? No? I didn't think so. Bye!

::get into car, pull door shut with foot, cat claws up my front, turn key:: ::tired, depressed noise from engine - doesn't crank::

NO! NO! Please, please, don't do this to me!

That's right. Laura's car wouldn't start. And my cell phone was at Anna's. And Mama was in Corinth. Laura and Trey? In south Mississippi. So, even if I borrow the man's phone, who on earth will I call? And I'm at a stranger's house, with two kittens. I almost plunked my head down and cried. Almost. I'm saved by the grizzled man in a dirty tank coming out. He heard the sorry, nasty, mean, ugly engine refuse to perform like a good engine should, and he tells me not to worry. He hooks up the battery cables and jumps off the car, as calmly and politely as if teenage girls with screeching cats in tow have car trouble in his yard every day. He was so nice. And he had a high pitched voice, which I would have found amusing at any other time, given that he was a good sized hulk of a man.

I drove home as fast as I could with the dastardly beasts clawing me; the box wherein they should have been safely enclosed being absolutely no good by this time.

I dumped them out on the front porch, from whence they immediately scampered to their mama.

And I now know what my calling in life isn't.

Giving away cute, free kittens.

I'm a failure at it.





Oh, and Laura? Your car needs some major help.