Milo

oh no

December 18, 2014tempestpilot

So the boy turned 12. After a day crammed with breakfast cinnamon buns, mini cupcakes for his class, and irresponsible candy consumption, we geared up for a feast at our favorite Chinese restaurant. I scraped the struggling infink’s hair into pigtails, made the boys change clothes because they had decided to roll down a hill in the rain, and warmed up bird formula. As the baby dove chugged its bottle, I said, “Birds. All these birds. At least nobody has tried to give us kittens.” And I ducked as imaginary thunder clapped, and said, “I RETRACT THAT STATEMENT.” But it was said.

At the restaurant, the cousins were late. We ordered gau gee and spring rolls and drank pots of green tea before giving up and ordering dinner, and were halfway through the Mongolian beef when the boys crowded in. “WE SAVED A KITTEN.” Oh no. Gavin lit up like a shiny beamy thing. This is a boy who is cool just by sheer lack of self-consciousness. He wears Doctor Who shirts, has glittery kittens on his folders, and he ain’t give a damn. Kittens are his thing. “The kitten will be mine,” he said. “No.” I said. “Yes, it will,” he said. “Well, ok,” I said. Damn. Outwitted.

The cousins wanted to give it a go at kittymommyhood, since they had saved it from the slavering dogs. But the cousins swell up like puffer fish when they touch cats. “We will bathe it every day!” they said. “We will wash our hands so much!” they said. But then they woke up with boiled eggs for eyes, and my aunt was on the phone, arranging for transfer of custody.

So now we have another cat on the already-unwieldy pile of cats.

I think. It may be a mongoose. We will find out when it tries to eat our faces while we’re sleeping.

Names are being debated. The kids want to name it Zhu Li, so they can yell, “Do the thing!” at it.

I am lobbying for Our Lord Sandra, because this is the time of year that baby Jesus may come a-visiting, and nobody is to say that Jesus won’t come as a little ginger cat just to keep us on our toes, and in my favorite YA series, Georgia Nicolson’s little sister gets hold of the Jesus figurine and dresses it up and names it Sandra, so there you go. Literary and seasonal.