Patience

Still waiting. Patiently.

I really thought the kittens were going to come last night. Lola displayed all the symptoms of a cat about to go into labor: decreased appetite, restless pacing, impossible rotundness.

Even Bongo seemed to be expecting something. He didn't attack her once. Just sat there quietly, watching.

Vessel

What's full of kittens, covered in nipples, and never stops eating?

Give up?

It's Lola.

And I'm guessing she's going to have those kittens any day now.

Aside from the fact that her girth seems to double every 24 hours, she is starting to get the long-suffering look of a mother.

Short of earning a veterinary degree, I'm probably as prepared as a person can be for the inevitable event. I've stocked up on dental floss (to tie off the ends of bloody umbilical cords) and eye droppers (for suctioning out tiny breathing passages)--neither of which should be at all necessary as long as Lola's maternal instincts kick in when they should.

The one mistake I've made is staying up late watching feline birthing videos on the internet. If I could take that night back, I would. It's one thing to witness the event in person, and another to watch (repeatedly) on YouTube, while another person's cat rotates painfully in a cardboard box, dropping one slimy sack after another onto a pile of shredded newspaper. Oh, and then eats the afterbirth.

I really love the idea of nature, but sometimes in practice it's just plain gross.

Honeymoon

Last night I had to separate the felines due to mortal combat. I put them in adjacent rooms, separated by double 'doors' that are actually 2 tall pairs of shutters held together with hinges. The doors are okay for privacy if you are having a dinner party and need to change your gown whilst guests sip champagne in the next room. But they are pretty useless for sequestering cats.

The rest of the night was a symphony of rattling shutter-doors, and a low, persistent growling (Lola), that sounded kind of like a hummingbird hovering somewhere nearby.

I would have just thrown them in a room together and let them duke it out if it weren't for the pregnancy factor. I don't know how delicate Lola's condition is, but I'd prefer not to risk it. Plus, the nature of their fighting is just too intense to listen to while trying to fall asleep.

That had to be the shortest honeymoon ever. And now there are children on the way.

Nest

The furry pregnant teen living in my house is looking for a place to have her puppies. And by puppies, I mean kittens. I'm told cats like a private place to give birth and when they are getting close to that time, they'll start looking for a sheltered area where they will nestle in and wait. For the past couple of days, each time I've opened my closet door to look for sandals, a USB cord, or an unwrinkled shirt, Lola has made a beeline for the dark, disorganized recesses. I'm worried that if she gives birth in there, the kittens will never be found again, just like the mates to most of my socks.

I've tried to lure her to other spots, but the towel-lined laundry basket doesn't seem to hold any appeal.

I guess I better make some space in my closet.

Gratitude

This cat is definitely grateful to have a home. She eats copious amounts of food and always takes the best seat in the house, but you just can't begrudge her anything because she seems to luxuriate so thoroughly in everything she does.

Icebreaker

Paper bags are amazing. Not only are they made of paper, but they are also bags. Bags that can hold a great many things.

This particular bag was one I brought home last week after forgetting to bring my reusable bags with me to the store.

After putting the groceries away, I dropped the bag on the floor for Bongo to play with. He promptly disappeared inside, performed several rotations, and came back out again. Then Lola approached the bag and disappeared inside.

Showing his rarely seen opportunistic side, Bongo promptly closed the bag and stood on the edge, effectively sealing Lola inside.

He kept her in there just long enough to let her know who was in charge (she'd been growling at him for 2 days straight), and then stepped off the bag and walked away looking bored. She emerged equally nonplussed, and followed him into the other room.

After that, the growling stopped and the apartment became neutral territory. It was as if they'd reached an accord.

Not only is a paper bag good for containing groceries, it's also, apparently, a useful negotiation tool for cats.

Introductions

Before bringing Lola home to meet Bongo, I decided to do a little research so I didn’t violate any cardinal rules of feline socialization. I googled the term “cat introductions”. The main thing, apparently, is that you’ve gotta keep ‘em separated. At least for a while. Let them get to know each other through a closed door. Then there was a bunch of other stuff. Weird, intricate cat psychology stuff that seemed mostly to be an unintended commentary on the psychology of those who wrote it.

But the separation thing was definitely going to happen because Lola had ear mites, and it would take a couple of days for the medicine to work.

During those 2 days, she sat quietly on my bed, and Bongo sat quietly on the floor in the living room. There was a little bit of that through-the-door interaction I'd read about, but it didn't amount to much. Bongo always went back to his spot on the rug, and Lola went back to the bed to scratch her ears.

I drank coffee and watched the lack of drama unfold. Then I picked up my phone and made some plans, so when Monday came around, I wasn't someone who had sat around observing cats all weekend...

Felines

Last Wednesday I got a call from a friend who happened to be hanging out in a bar called the Brass Cat. A young cat had walked into the bar all alone and without proper identification. A patron had put her back outside and closed the door, but the cat found another open door and made her way back in a few minutes later.

The call went something like this:

Me: Hello?
Friend: Hey, are you still looking for a cat?
Me: Um, yeah, I guess so. Why?
Friend: This kitten just walked into the Brass Cat, and she looks just like Bongo.
Me: A tuxedo?
Friend: What? Sorry, it's kind of loud in here.
Me: She's a tuxedo? A stray? A kitten?
Friend: Yeah, and she's friendly, very sweet.
Me: It sounds like manna from heaven.
Friend: What? Sorry, it's pretty loud in here.

I had actually been looking for a companion cat for Bongo, and had been checking Petfinder and Craigslist daily for a young female tuxedo. That night, a couple of Umass students took the stray home from the bar and posted pictures of her (sitting on a bar stool) to see if anyone would claim her, but no one did.

On Friday I bought a bunch of extra cat food, a second litterbox, a few catnip mice, and a couple of bowls. I vacuumed my apartment. I spent quality time with Bongo.

On Saturday morning, I went to Amherst with a cat carrier...

The cat was cute. That was the first thing I noticed. The next thing was her pear shape. I picked her up and got a handful of kitty nipples.

"Um, I think this cat is pregnant," I said to the students who'd been taking care of her.

"Really?" they replied in unison.

In the car on the way to the vet, I called my mom.

"Mom," I wailed, "I think she's pregnant. She's got all these nipples and a round little belly. She waddles!"

Mom laughed.

"What am I going to do with kittens?!"

She laughed again, and said, "Just embrace life a little. It will be fine."

She was right, of course.

The vet corroborated the pregnancy, and said I could expect the kittens in 3-4 weeks.

I decided to name the cat Lolita, and call her Lola for short.