Littlefoot
"Dear Littlefoot,
I hate to say this because I love you but.... I think you might have a weight problem. Some call it being a 'closet eater', but you actually have no qualms about eating in front of people several times a day. I am worried you might be an emotional eater..."
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My Lovely Littlefoot... you are the softest cat I have ever known. The absolute softest. You are my little Butterball, so named after the plump Christmas turkeys. I love you, let me count the ways.
In September it will mark a year when we found you, which would put your entrance into this world right around late June. Lloyd and I were taking a drive one night through our neighborhood and he saw you first. A little, tiny black kitty. I asked him to stop even though we had 3 cats at the time (Chewy, Lando, and Obi) and I was adamant I didn't want more stinking cats. But a perfect tiny kitten was there, all alone, crouching near a truck tire. I am so happy we stopped that car. I exited the car first, and crouched to that pavement, calling for you in all the usual kitten-call tones. You were so afraid, and I have to say it again.... tiny.... You didn't come to me right away... I had to work for it. Finally I rubbed my fingers and thumb together, to pretend I had a snack, and this marks the first time you came to me from underneath that truck. It also marks how I get you to come to me every day since then. Always the ol' food in hand trick.
You trotted towards me and I snatched you up and cradled you until I heard the first, cutest little meow. I just couldn't leave you out there all on your own. I needed to feed you first, and then put you back out to the world. We got into the car together and Lloyd drove us home. We brought you into that warm house, and Lloyd looked for suitable kitten food. It was when we went indoors I noticed a very large animal-type bite/ gash on your head. It still had remnants of dried blood, and it was cut straight across the top of your tiny skull and black hair. What had gotten to you, little kitty?? Lloyd fell in love with you before the car had even pulled over, and I did not want to admit the same. I told him we would wait until you were healed, get your immunizations, and then give you away to a loving home. I just did not want any more animals. I mean, being called the cat lady is awful enough, but being called the "cats lady" is just getting out of control. I have several allergic family members and that was that. But.. let's get back to your cuteness for a moment.
We put you on the family room carpet. Lando and Obi came over to investigate. I was worried at first because they tend to be a bit territorial, especially Obi. But they seemed almost afraid of this tiny kitten. The sniffed and circled around.... and stared. They seemed to actually feel bad for you. They did not try to steal your tiny soft food or water. They were just... so curious about you. At one point I remember opening the front door, sure you would make a run for it once the smells of summer nights hit your nose. I had, in that moment, wished you would run away. Then it would be obvious that we were not meant to take care of you. It meant you did not want to be with us. It meant we were free from the burden of opening our hearts to another animal. And so that front door opened... and you stared outside as if to see what I was looking at. You and I looked out into that big outdoor world. You didn't move.... just looked out the door. Once that became boring for your teeny-tiny kitten brain, you nuzzled into my ankle as if to say, "shut the door and pick me up already". I picked you up, and you stole my big human heart.
Your wound was healing pretty well and your skinny frame was getting a cute little belly. I made arrangements with the vet to get your first immunizations and inquired when the earliest appointment would be to get you spayed. I would have to wait until you were 5 1/2 months old to safely have you spayed. But I still wasn't sure I was ready for that commitment- to wait another 3 1/2 months??? During the days, Lloyd or myself were home regularly. You would sit in the crook of our necks as we watched t.v. in the loft. You would dig into our bellies and had an odd habit of sticking your nose into my armpit. Seriously gross but seriously kinda' sweet. You were just so vulnerable and I would wonder why you had to be put in our path on that night. Inter-mixed with my feelings of affection toward you were mixed with the resentment of not having control of my feelings. I like being in control. That's my M.O.
We still have you, Littlefoot. One year later you are 6 times the size you were then. You have the sweetest, roundest, chubbiest kitten face. The other 3 boys love you like a little sister. They don't let you explore the night's hunting grounds with them, but they bring you things. Lando likes to catch baby mice and bring them to you for you to play with. He and Obi like to save the big kills for themselves- generally large moles or rabbits. But they purposely bring little mice home and leave it at your feet. Then you will happily chase it and toss it into the air. I know the sound from anywhere in the house: the tossing of a mouse and hearing it repeatedly hit the floor. I scurry over to save it, if it's not already dead. It doesn't irritate me quite as much as a dead bunny. I just hope you stick with the little kills. The whole 'chasing bunny' routine you cats have been putting me on is really too much cardio for my 30 year old body.
Littlefoot, as cute and soft and wonderful as you are, your roundness is getting a bit out of hand. Um', sweetie, you are now bigger than Trouble, equally sized with Lando, and giving Bob Big Boy a run for his kibbles. I'm just sayin'...
The diet can wait. It will have to wait because I am not ready for the morning, mid-morning, afternoon, mid-afternoon, evening and late night routine to end. You know the one? The routine where you hear Lloyd or I closing in on the kitchen area and you assume that means its time for you to eat... again.
It's cute. Not that I am trying to be an enabler. It is, however, almost that time to stop calling you a kitten because you certainly don't look the part. I'm just sayin'...
I hate to say this because I love you but.... I think you might have a weight problem. Some call it being a 'closet eater', but you actually have no qualms about eating in front of people several times a day. I am worried you might be an emotional eater..."
In September it will mark a year when we found you, which would put your entrance into this world right around late June. Lloyd and I were taking a drive one night through our neighborhood and he saw you first. A little, tiny black kitty. I asked him to stop even though we had 3 cats at the time (Chewy, Lando, and Obi) and I was adamant I didn't want more stinking cats. But a perfect tiny kitten was there, all alone, crouching near a truck tire. I am so happy we stopped that car. I exited the car first, and crouched to that pavement, calling for you in all the usual kitten-call tones. You were so afraid, and I have to say it again.... tiny.... You didn't come to me right away... I had to work for it. Finally I rubbed my fingers and thumb together, to pretend I had a snack, and this marks the first time you came to me from underneath that truck. It also marks how I get you to come to me every day since then. Always the ol' food in hand trick.
You trotted towards me and I snatched you up and cradled you until I heard the first, cutest little meow. I just couldn't leave you out there all on your own. I needed to feed you first, and then put you back out to the world. We got into the car together and Lloyd drove us home. We brought you into that warm house, and Lloyd looked for suitable kitten food. It was when we went indoors I noticed a very large animal-type bite/ gash on your head. It still had remnants of dried blood, and it was cut straight across the top of your tiny skull and black hair. What had gotten to you, little kitty?? Lloyd fell in love with you before the car had even pulled over, and I did not want to admit the same. I told him we would wait until you were healed, get your immunizations, and then give you away to a loving home. I just did not want any more animals. I mean, being called the cat lady is awful enough, but being called the "cats lady" is just getting out of control. I have several allergic family members and that was that. But.. let's get back to your cuteness for a moment.
We put you on the family room carpet. Lando and Obi came over to investigate. I was worried at first because they tend to be a bit territorial, especially Obi. But they seemed almost afraid of this tiny kitten. The sniffed and circled around.... and stared. They seemed to actually feel bad for you. They did not try to steal your tiny soft food or water. They were just... so curious about you. At one point I remember opening the front door, sure you would make a run for it once the smells of summer nights hit your nose. I had, in that moment, wished you would run away. Then it would be obvious that we were not meant to take care of you. It meant you did not want to be with us. It meant we were free from the burden of opening our hearts to another animal. And so that front door opened... and you stared outside as if to see what I was looking at. You and I looked out into that big outdoor world. You didn't move.... just looked out the door. Once that became boring for your teeny-tiny kitten brain, you nuzzled into my ankle as if to say, "shut the door and pick me up already". I picked you up, and you stole my big human heart.
Your wound was healing pretty well and your skinny frame was getting a cute little belly. I made arrangements with the vet to get your first immunizations and inquired when the earliest appointment would be to get you spayed. I would have to wait until you were 5 1/2 months old to safely have you spayed. But I still wasn't sure I was ready for that commitment- to wait another 3 1/2 months??? During the days, Lloyd or myself were home regularly. You would sit in the crook of our necks as we watched t.v. in the loft. You would dig into our bellies and had an odd habit of sticking your nose into my armpit. Seriously gross but seriously kinda' sweet. You were just so vulnerable and I would wonder why you had to be put in our path on that night. Inter-mixed with my feelings of affection toward you were mixed with the resentment of not having control of my feelings. I like being in control. That's my M.O.
We still have you, Littlefoot. One year later you are 6 times the size you were then. You have the sweetest, roundest, chubbiest kitten face. The other 3 boys love you like a little sister. They don't let you explore the night's hunting grounds with them, but they bring you things. Lando likes to catch baby mice and bring them to you for you to play with. He and Obi like to save the big kills for themselves- generally large moles or rabbits. But they purposely bring little mice home and leave it at your feet. Then you will happily chase it and toss it into the air. I know the sound from anywhere in the house: the tossing of a mouse and hearing it repeatedly hit the floor. I scurry over to save it, if it's not already dead. It doesn't irritate me quite as much as a dead bunny. I just hope you stick with the little kills. The whole 'chasing bunny' routine you cats have been putting me on is really too much cardio for my 30 year old body.
Littlefoot, as cute and soft and wonderful as you are, your roundness is getting a bit out of hand. Um', sweetie, you are now bigger than Trouble, equally sized with Lando, and giving Bob Big Boy a run for his kibbles. I'm just sayin'...
The diet can wait. It will have to wait because I am not ready for the morning, mid-morning, afternoon, mid-afternoon, evening and late night routine to end. You know the one? The routine where you hear Lloyd or I closing in on the kitchen area and you assume that means its time for you to eat... again.
It's cute. Not that I am trying to be an enabler. It is, however, almost that time to stop calling you a kitten because you certainly don't look the part. I'm just sayin'...
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