vituperation

May 19, 2005

After a week of my wife wheedling, cajoling, and begging me, I finally broke down and said, "Okay, but you have to agree that when the time is up, it’s up. We’re not keeping any of them."

My wife agreed, enthusiastically, and believe you me, she’ll be sticking to that agreement.

So I’m pleased to tell you we’re new parents again, for a limited time. Sort of.

Foster parents.

Five kittens from the local no-kill shelter, and their tiny spitfire mama.

My favorite picture.

Why won’t he let me sleeeeeeeeeep?

Peeking over Robyn’s leg.

Mama squints at the bright-ass flash.

What the fuck?

Checking out the camera, up close and personal.

One is flailing madly for balance, three are ignoring him.

The little girl stares intently at something while two of her
brothers look on and one sleeps.

Kitten toes!

Climbing over my size 12 foot. That should give you an idea of
just how small they are.

A whole passel of kittens, all in a pile.

Surprisingly, our cats aren’t interested in the slightest, unless we’re in there playing with them. Then they hover outside the door and make mama nervous.

It should be an interesting six weeks.

And the cool part? We get to name them since we’re fostering them.