How Leo, the Dog, found a little lost kitten
How Leo, the Dog, and Uncle Clemens found a little lost kitten. A short story for Mulan. Their very best friend.
Laura was sick, so I bravely said, "Oh, I'll take Leo, the Dog, for his walk for you." That's how the whole affair started. So off through the neighborhood we did go. Past the small copse of trees on the hill overlooking the 421 Strip, when we hear a loud, hugely loud, squawk from deep in the woods. We walk faster. More loud yelps, and I have to admit that this is an animal in deep distress. I do NOT want to, but I can not abandon such an animal, even if it is big and wild and might try to take my arm off in its agony. Or even worse, an animal so seriously injured I might have to decide to put it out of its misery right then and there. Leo could take care of that. He is a fierce killer of varmints. No. Really, he is.
So we go back to where we first heard the noise and peer into the woods. The yells have stopped - its frightened of us now, I think, and we will have to go in and find it.
Suddently the grass between us and the woods parts and out steps a tiny ball of fluff who walks right past Leo, the fearsome varmint killer, right up to my shoe, looks up to me and says, "Well. Pick me up!!" I think that is what she said anyway. It seemed pretty clear in context.
Leo is completely non-plussed and now decides to ignore this embarrassing little critter completely by going into his Noble-Dog-Scanning-the-Horizon pose. I pick the critter up and she is wet and cold. I have a sinking feeling that she is going to be mine by decree of the Universe. Leo and I take her home. Laura will know what to do.
It is only two blocks, but by the time we get home she has warmed up and is reaching up to pat my face with her paw. I know that she is mine.
Now she is occupying my study. When Leo sees her he looks like the sharks in "Finding Nemo." He turns his head away and trys to think of something else. Mosby looks disdainful, Ben simply disgusted. If the little critter gets too close Ben hisses at her. The old girls are neither frightened or hostile, which is good. The Critter, for that is now her name, would like to play with them both. They have other ideas.
And that is the story of how a little 9 week old, 2 lb., girl kitten latched on to me, Mulan. I had nothing to do with it.
Whenever I try to write Critter wants to chase the pen and since I use wet ink fountain pens she tracks ink when she skips across the page. She also likes to walk on my laptop keyboard and climbs all over me. Usually with her claws out. I have learned to put on a thick robe first thing in the morning, before I do my morning writing.
[Since this was written in a letter to Mulan the little critter has grown, still bothers the Ben and Mosby, wants to play with Leo, the Dog, and has moderated using her teeth on me in the morning. She is Trouble Personified, but it is too late to get rid of her. We take her to the vet for a little operation tomorrow.]
Laura was sick, so I bravely said, "Oh, I'll take Leo, the Dog, for his walk for you." That's how the whole affair started. So off through the neighborhood we did go. Past the small copse of trees on the hill overlooking the 421 Strip, when we hear a loud, hugely loud, squawk from deep in the woods. We walk faster. More loud yelps, and I have to admit that this is an animal in deep distress. I do NOT want to, but I can not abandon such an animal, even if it is big and wild and might try to take my arm off in its agony. Or even worse, an animal so seriously injured I might have to decide to put it out of its misery right then and there. Leo could take care of that. He is a fierce killer of varmints. No. Really, he is.
So we go back to where we first heard the noise and peer into the woods. The yells have stopped - its frightened of us now, I think, and we will have to go in and find it.
Suddently the grass between us and the woods parts and out steps a tiny ball of fluff who walks right past Leo, the fearsome varmint killer, right up to my shoe, looks up to me and says, "Well. Pick me up!!" I think that is what she said anyway. It seemed pretty clear in context.
Leo is completely non-plussed and now decides to ignore this embarrassing little critter completely by going into his Noble-Dog-Scanning-the-Horizon pose. I pick the critter up and she is wet and cold. I have a sinking feeling that she is going to be mine by decree of the Universe. Leo and I take her home. Laura will know what to do.
It is only two blocks, but by the time we get home she has warmed up and is reaching up to pat my face with her paw. I know that she is mine.
Now she is occupying my study. When Leo sees her he looks like the sharks in "Finding Nemo." He turns his head away and trys to think of something else. Mosby looks disdainful, Ben simply disgusted. If the little critter gets too close Ben hisses at her. The old girls are neither frightened or hostile, which is good. The Critter, for that is now her name, would like to play with them both. They have other ideas.
And that is the story of how a little 9 week old, 2 lb., girl kitten latched on to me, Mulan. I had nothing to do with it.
Whenever I try to write Critter wants to chase the pen and since I use wet ink fountain pens she tracks ink when she skips across the page. She also likes to walk on my laptop keyboard and climbs all over me. Usually with her claws out. I have learned to put on a thick robe first thing in the morning, before I do my morning writing.
[Since this was written in a letter to Mulan the little critter has grown, still bothers the Ben and Mosby, wants to play with Leo, the Dog, and has moderated using her teeth on me in the morning. She is Trouble Personified, but it is too late to get rid of her. We take her to the vet for a little operation tomorrow.]
posted by Clemens | 3:36 PM
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