A TALE OF TWO KITTIES
by
Charles Kittins
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Two white kitties, too young to be taken from their mother, were unceremoniously dumped along side a winding red dirt country lane as that was what one did with life forms that mattered little.
But sometimes life takes the odd turn and things work out for the best. A kindly couple returning from their trip to town noticed the foundlings in the ditch along the road and stopped to investigate. They took the mewling pair in hand and placed them in the lap of the lady whilst the gentleman continued driving the horseless buggy toward the hollow in which they, along with a couple of children, assorted dogs, cats and chickens, spent their time among natures bounty.
Now this couple already had several cats, including two other small kittens, the offspring of their older tabby. They did not mind the extra mouths to feed and they knew it would only be for a while; country cats burn through all nine lives in short order.
But the day following the rescue of the homeless waifs, the sister of the man, along with her daughter, visited. The daughter, aside her two male cousins, were delighted with the tiny balls of fur and fury and whiled away the day in joyful rhapsody.
Come nightfall, the mother and daughter had to return to their own abode. The daughter let out a piercing wail, not unlike that of the banshee, and pleaded with her mother to let her take Starfire, as she had named the fluffier of the two kittens, home with her for all she had awaiting there were two dogs, one grown, one, Peta, just a pup, and Isis, an old, wizened, jet black cat with the piercing eyes of a siamese who had been her mothers kitten back in the long ago and whose days of playfulness were long past.
The mother relented and the three started for home leaving little Michael, the shorter haired of the two, to remain with his new litter mates and their mater, and their older kindred feline family.
Time passed, as time is wont to do, Michael, raised with other cats and kittens, grew into a beautifully adjusted companion for the older couple. He would come sit on their laps as they worked diligently at the computer. He would curl up next to the elder son as he sat engaged with his new Slate doing his ciphers and whip his tail playfully across the screen as if keeping time with the Beats in the background. Michaels days were spent chasing and being chased by the youngest child but his favorite time was nap time when he, the child and mother would curl up together on the bed purring contentedly.
Starfite, ah Starfire. She was a cat of a different mindset. Her life, while not lonely as there was always someone else there, was not the life of a kitten. Isis, the elder, wanted little to do with that little ball of energy, swatting her each time she had her tail attacked. Of the dogs, both were respectful, the older one reserved and the youngster a playtime companion. But, cats and dogs grow differently and soon the puppy towered above Starfire and while she still wanted to play, the size difference sometimes made playtime an ordeal for the kitten. She found herself avoiding Peta or, more likely, pouncing upon her from hiding and then running off laughing as that poor, dimwitted dog tried to first attain what had happened and thence chase the offending kitten under a nearby piece of furniture. Isis, poor Isis, became the object of her taunting. She knew she was faster, stronger and more cunning. Isis would not sit there and take it without reprisal but Starfire laughed at her feeble attempts to defend herself. Her people, the mother and daughter, loved to hold her, cuddle her and whisper in her ear what a wonder she was. At first, she enjoyed the attention and always came for more but as she grew, she grew more distant. Holding was to be done on her terms, and when she wanted to leave she would do so, usually leaving a bloody gash upon the offending human. Her mood soured. At times she would growl menacingly whenever someone or something got too close for her comfort. She would still sit in laps or on shoulders but the times were short and infrequent, preferring her own company. Many an evening was spent with her curled up at one end of the sofa and Isis at the other, usually in the lap of the mother.
And life goes on,
Michael eventually found himself the lone cat and had the family to himself. A mature, majestic white feline whose greatest joy came from interacting with his human family but he missed the other cats and when the family brought home another kitten from a neighboring homesteads brood, he lit up and became a kitten himself again.
Starfire (whose name had mysteriously evolved into “Shitfire” as the blood continued to flow) had grown too. She had wild uncontrollable hair, that matched her disposition, with the coloration pattern of a Burmese. She condescended to live in the home with the other four occupants and whiled away her days outside making life hell for the other neighborhood cats and her nights in solitary contemplation while occasionally spitting out invectives toward that moron Peta.
Two kittens, two very different paths.
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Composing members:
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