POT PURRY

This is the month for cattails, cat tails and cat tales. The lake where I fish is full of the first, my house is full of the second and my mail is full of the last.

The most unusual came from Mary Heston in Vermont. She took four kittens out of a carrier to pick one to be hers and «misty Heston» made the choice easy. «She was the one who walked directly to the swimming pool, jumped in, swam calmly across and stepped out on the other side, perfectly poised!» The funniest came from Mary Ann Cash, St. Ives Cattery in Nashville, Tennessee. I actually got it first over the phone. «Help! What do I do now?» I asked Mary

Ann to put it into writing and here it is. «Just nine days ago St. Ives Lily of the Field had huge triplets under my husband’s bed. We quickly removed them and their mama to the padded floor of the china closet where all was well until yesterday. You see, Lily’s mother, Whittemore’s Jane Ringlet of St. Ives was also pregnant. Every day she looked more like a can of beans with botulism and was obviously getting quite bored with pregnancy, so yesterday morning decided if her kittens would not come, she would have kittens the easy way and took over the china closet and Lily’s three huge reds. Lily, like any normal mother, was delighted to get a baby sitter and went frolicing around the house with Thomas Malthus. It was a bit crowded for the five of them in the china closet so we moved them to a large kittening box where everyone settled down quietly for the night- except Malthus who decided to get away from it all and stalked out to the breezeway. About two thirty this morning, I heard some small noises from the box and went to inspect. Jane was just finishing having quintuplets, 4 more reds and a tortie. The amazing thing was that Jane was just relaxing while Lily was cleaning the kittens and her mother. She did as good a job as any hospital nursery. Sitting in one corner were the triplets. As their eyes had just opened I guess you could call this learly sex education.

By this time, even the large box was overflowing with fur, so when all was fairly quiet I moved the triplets a few feet to the china closet expecting Lily to fo low. By the time I put them down, there was Jane (who a minute before was acting like a limp flower). She immediately took her grandchildren back to the box, but after thinking it over, retransferred all eight kids and grandkids back to the china closet. Lily joined them and there they stay in their own commune. Lily occasionally goes out for a romp but when she is there, Jane now washes her five, Lily’s three and Lily, Malthus is behind the couch in the living room.» 11 I had intended to add my own tale of Freddy-the-Freeloader, but I think I will save it until next time. I didn’t find him in the mailbox, but he is as dependable as my Postman!

One last word–of warning. If you have been using flea collars, quit, or if you are considering it, don’t. An article in a recent issue of Dog Fancy spells out the dangers and I know of an instance in which a kitten was dead within days after a well-meaning owner put a flea collar on it. The powder or for fast results a bath in flea soap–but be sure the powder and soap are meant for cats!

Connie

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