More on Mittens

I could never hold her in that first year, it seems. She was so tiny, and I guess I was rather tiny myself. I remember before we had her de-clawed, Mom would place a pillow on my lap (one of the pillows Mom made to match the old red-carpeted living room) and then place Mittens on the pillow. Well, seeing as how Mittens has, and always has had, a mind of her own, she didn’t exactly stay there long. I tried to stop her, but to no avail – my hands were small, her body was small, and she definitely had a knack for squirming out of small places. I never even mastered the art of picking her up until I was bigger and older.

Dad has rough-housed with her from the start. He used to play on the floor with her using his “Spidey” techniques often applied to his younger daughter (me). Dad and Mittens have always had a rivalry because of those games that they play. He would make her mad, and she would kick kick kick bite bite bite chew chew chew. And always in that order. When Dad found out he was allergic to cats, it only inspired his cause more. According to his mouth, that cat causes all of his problems, and really just all problems in general. If it’s not the darned lake’s fault, it’s probably because of the cat. She’s the “elusive black kitty.”

I remember building waffle-block fortresses or small buildings for Mittens to climb into. We’d make sure that the ceiling of the structure was either non-existant or made out of the blocks without centers. She’d sit in the waffle blocks, and we’d dangle her toy down at her. Oooh, did that make her mad. You’d see the paws flying, the mouth chewing. That was her first toy – the now rather notorious “Mrrt.” It actually began as a fishing rod type of toy. There was a clear, plastic rod with the brown string coming out from the rod. On the end of the string was a gray fuzzy something with eyes, and perhaps even and entire face – I can’t really remember. The rod cracked early on, and after extensive chewing the face disappeared as well. Amazingly, she still has that toy. It still has a brown string and a fuzzy gray thing at the end, but it’s rather tattered and shot. One of those things where if it belonged to a human our mothers would have forced us to pitch it long ago. It got it’s name because she talks to it… either that or mourns it – you can’t ever really tell. The strange even only happens when no one is around, or Mitten doesn’t perceive anyone to be around – especially at night. She will drag the Mrrt to some location, set it down, look at it, and just wail. “Mrow. Mrrrrooooow!” The moment someone checks on her to make sure she’s not trapped under some heavy object, she stops. Usually if we’ve been away on vacation, we’ll come back to see the Mrrt in a new position, meaning she was lonely.

Another favorite pastime for Mittens was the porch. That always got her quite excited, especially on the few occasions in which we’d have wildlife out there. I remember when a mouse had the unfortunate fate of being in our porch. We looked out the window, and there was Mittens, not really killing the mouse, not really biting or eating it, but rather playing with it. I swear she tossed that thing up 6 feet in the air with a flick of her paw. That poor mouse didn’t know what was going on – it may have been better off with a quick death.

The window that goes out to the porch has also led to great amusement. We used to have cream-colored drapes hanging over the window as well as part way down. Normally we slid the curtain to one side to let her out, but inevitably it was covered in black hair anyway. When Mittens was still small and light, she used to climb up onto the rod that went through the middle of the window and walk it like a tight rope. I seem to recall some unintentional acrobatics at one point, but it’s a little fuzzy. I’m not sure when she learned to paw on the door when she wanted in our out, but we’ve always used it as a testimony to her intelligence.

At Christmas time mittens became a forester. You’d be walking around the house, wondering where that cat could possibly be, worrying that someone had accidentally left a closet open somewhere, and then there she was – perfectly happy and perched in a bow of the Christmas tree. Of course, when she was younger the branches actually held her wait, and she was able to maneuver rather well. Rascal, I tell you! Christmas time also means the old electric train, which can be quite entertaining to a cat. It makes a nice target.

Mittens has had one other true furry friend in her lifetime with us, and that was the chipmunk friend. Now, this chipmunk had some spunk, I’ll say that for it. Knowing that Mittens was behind some sort of door, it used to prance back and forth in front of her, driving her absolutely mad. I think the chipmunk was rather encouraged by her frustration and continued to come back every year. Unfortunately his eventual mate wasn’t so comfortable around house pets and could barely pass in front of the window without seeming to have a heart attack. Then one day, we found a chipmunk stuck in the porch… with the cat. I don’t know which it was, and I don’t remember what happened, but I know Mittens had a field day with it.