Behind On Postage

It's not that I feel obligated to post daily fodder for folks to read here, but as I have mentioned on more than one occasion, this is my scrapbook! I have to get this stuff out of my head and down for posterity's sake. Because I know my children will love reading stories about themselves as youngsters when they are, um, older. I would say as teenagers, but I can't think in terms of teenagers right now.

I can't even think in terms of not having any diaper wearing children in my house right now.

All that to say, I think I will try to catch up a bit today. I promised a post about the cat and one of his first experiences as a part of our family. So, here we go!

Last Wednesday(?), the kids were out on the back deck playing. They had been puttering around and being super-good while I cleaned up in the kitchen or did laundry or something (I don't remember what anymore, that was nearly a week ago!) Anyway, I wrapped up what I was doing and went out to sit with the kids and enjoy some sunshine and breeze.

As I was walking down the deck, which runs the length of the house, I noticed Thomas hefting his sand bucket onto the railing. Maybe I realized what was in it, maybe not. But I did ask him pretty abruptly to get the bucket off the railing. Thomas reached back up and managed to knock the bucket over rather than grip the handle. It tipped over and the contents went flying off the deck.

People, I kid you not, the contents of that bucket were just this: Tippy the Kitten!

I heard the thud, a cry, and much skittering as the poor creature took off under the deck. I ran down the steps (yes, it was a six month pregnant run, but it was still a run) to check on him. As I walked towards him, trying to be calm and not scare him anymore, he swayed while somehow managing to stay on his feet.

Tippy sitting next to the wheel of the kids Cozy Coupe. See, not very big at all.

I scooped him up and carried him back up the steps, where I was met by a teary eye-ed Thomas and a mildly concerned Sarah Grace (who at that point was still pretty fearful of the cat) and a screeching Elizabeth (because that is what she does whenever she spies the cat). Thomas apologized to the kitten and explained to me about a dozen times that he didn't mean to hurt 'my cat. I wuv my Tippy cat'. I tried to soothe both little boy and cat, and finally succeeded in having one curl up in my lap and one sit next to me and continue to profess his love for his new pet.

The view from the backyard looking up at the deck.

We kept a close eye on the cat the remainder of the day, Joshua and I even allowing the poor dazed creature to come inside and sit in our laps for a little bit that evening. In all honesty, I was afraid the cat would die. He is just so little and that was just such a big fall.

And he didn't land on his feet. It's a myth, folks, that bit about cats always landing on their feet. I could tell stories of high school buddies who thought they would test that theory, but I don't want to incriminate anyone (just in case Darren reads this post, I don't want to say his name out loud and have animal services on his case!)

Tippy is fine now. Even walking straight lines again. You know, between doing that skittering thing that kittens do. Pouncing on anything that moves or doesn't move, running erratically from here to there, skidding to a sudden halt for no apparent reason.

Yeah, I think he's fine. It's hard to tell with kittens. They are just so naturally spazoids.