The trouble with sneezes

Our kitten-in-a-cat’s-body has a strangely unique character trait: she sneezes. It doesn’t sound like much, but I’m not just talking about a singular teeny cat sneeze. I’m talking about several big cat sneezes in succession that go on for what seems like minutes on end. I counted once, and found that my poor kitty sneezed 24 times in a row. I think it’s because she’s still technically a kitten, and she still feels the need to explore everything in the house, despite having lived here for about nine months. The only explanation I can give to the incessant sneezes is that in the course of her house exploration, she deems it necessary to push her nose as far into the smallest, dustiest corner of the sofa she can, thus setting off a long series of nasal explosions.

I'm not gross. I'm cute!

It sounds cute, but believe me: it’s not. Why? Because, friends, my cute little kitten has sneezes that are accompanied by some of the grossest snot I have ever seen come out of a cat’s face. It’s dark and sticky, and it goes everywhere. The other night I had the misfortune of sitting in my favorite green chair in the living room, and she was perched on the back behind my head. She makes a very good pillow. That’s when the sneezes started. And that’s when the back of my head became covered with cat snot.

I was very fortunate not to have showered yet that day.

If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now: my cat is gross.



My friend’s neighbor’s house seems to be a cat factory.  Apparently all the stray cats in the area like to congregate under the shrubs and porches and other sheltered places on her property.  What do they do there?  They have kittens.  Lots and lots of kittens.


See that squinty little guy in the front? I call him "Popeye."

There are five in the latest litter, which I got to see this weekend.  I am told that they are only a few weeks old. Each one is just big enough to fit in my hand.  They are they softest little things; even their little claws haven’t really sharpened yet.  The tiny mews that escape their mouths are so precious that I can’t help but squeal when I hear it. The best part is that while they are just courageous enough to be curious about people, they are still too young to know that they should probably run away when one of us tries to pick one of them up.

All I know is that I must have some seriously good karma going on.  If I didn’t, my conscience would have shut itself up and not reminded me that 1) my grandparents don’t like cats, and 2) we have a very large dog that could swallow a kitten whole.  If that karma weren’t so good, I would be well on my way to becoming the crazy cat lady with hundreds of cats inside and out, to whom I would leave all my worldly possessions when I die.  It took every ounce of my moral fiber not to take one of those little squirts home with me.

But honestly, though – how lucky am I to be able to resist a face like this?



I’ve always found it interesting how people categorize themselves as “cat people” or “dog people.”

My cousin wrote: “I lived in a house with 14 dogs.  I am a cat person.”

My mother could very easily say something similar: “I lived in a house with 8 cats.  I am a dog person.”

Personally, I am a dog person with a fondness for cats, who has recently adopted a cat with the personality of a dog and an unhealthy fondness for the resident hamster.

What kind of pet person are you?

Haiku 12

Roomba and kitten:
Not quite sure of each other.
Entertaining?  Yes!

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