Wednesday, April 28, 2010

... on the Black Kitten of Doom.

A couple of weeks before Kuber died, an odd thing happened. It was night, and I’d just shut the roller door on her and the dog. I clean my teeth, poke around a bit. Then I hear a noise coming from the garage – Kuber was growling, as far as cats do. I walk through, and see that she’s sitting, looking intently and growling at something behind the mower. ‘Uh-oh,’ I think. There’s a snake inside. Or a bluetongue or something. I approach tentatively – and was quite surprised by what was crouched there – a tiny black kitten, with white feet. I'm delighted! I've always wanted to be discovered by a kitten! I put Kubrick and the dog into my room, and then approach again. The black kitten runs off. I go after it, slowly. It bolts again. I’m talking to it in a high, friendly voice, offering it catfood – it just keeps running away. After half an hour I’m sick of chasing it and I need to get to bed, so I corner it against the wall behind a plant pot. I reach down to grab it – and as I put my hand towards it there’s this hissing explosion which makes me withdraw my hand quite swiftly! I put on a thick pair of leather gloves and try again. I reach down – hissing explosion. Such a huge noise from something so small! I was afraid that if I grabbed it, I’d have a snarling sharp kitten up my arm and attached to my face in no time. After a ridiculous number of attempts to grab it I give up. The thing was trying to kill me. I open the roller door and use a stick to chase the kitten outside, whereupon it runs off into the night. See, now I have a theory about that little feral black kitten. It was the cat version of the Grim Reaper, and it’d come for Kubrick. Only – it got trapped inside and had to leave without her!

Bloody thing came back, though.

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