My daughter and some of her friends are coming down today to try to find the latest batch of Stray Slutty FeralMomCat’s kittens, which have been spotted behind almost every shrub around my house but which seem to be hiding really well indeed today. Actually, I haven’t seen them for three days now. FeralMom is back, stealing Charley Gordon’s food off the deck, but no kittens.

I got a good look at them only twice. Two silvery-gray, one black, and one calico like FeralMomCat. Her last batch had huge batlike ears but this batch has tiny ears. Long pointy kittenish tails. Huge loud kittenish voices.

FeralMomCat used to belong next door, even though they deny knowing her. Next door, they have kittens like gangbusters, litter after litter. They can’t afford to have any of the cats ‘fixed,’ but I would think that feeding that many cats would be far more expensive. Besides, around here in RuralLand, you can take your cats and dogs to the local elementary schools once a month and stand in line for the eight dollar pet vaccinations, and get a coupon for a fifteen-dollar neuter.

FeralMomCat was part of the neighbors’ first litter from THEIR semi-feral momcat. There are at least a dozen cats of various sizes at their house. They stay close to the house; I’ve never seen one here, and we are within spittin’ distance. I think most of FeralMomCat’s litters were the result of various incestuous encounters with her siblings, if appearance is any kind of clue.

Belle and her friends are going to try to catch FeralMom, as well as find the kittens.

The Humane Society shelter in this county charges a large (to me, anyway) fee if you want to drop off an animal. I can’t afford that. The shelter in Belle’s county doesn’t, so she will take them there, if she can find them. Besides, her shelter will neuter the kittens, give them their shots, and then PetSmart will sell them, so the odds of baby animals finding a good home increase by crossing the county line.

The kids were supposed to be here at ten. It’s now eleven, and their food is getting cold.

Ahem.

See that title? Go nuts, Google!

Update: They came, they found the kittens, they caged them, they ate, they packed up the leftovers, and they left. FeralMom eluded capture once again.

Charley Gordon wasn’t sad to see those kittens go. Really, he’s more like an Oedipal two-year-old than an elderly cat. I can’t say for certain that he was taunting the kittens through the bars and meowing the equivalent of ‘neener neener’ at them, but if facial expressions could talk, he was giving them the feline finger and bragging that he was staying but they weren’t. . . .

And when I put a little Cheap Chunk sliver on my finger and tried to pass it through the cage, Charley Gordon put a stop to that, too. Ouch.

MY mommy. MINE.

Now that the kittens are gone, Charley Gordon is doing the victory dance out on the deck.

“I’m a big tough, albeit neutered, Tom Cat, so to speak. Hssssst hsssst, purrrrrrrr, hssssst.”

Thank you, Baby Belle and friends.

When FeralMom drops another litter behind the bushes in a few months, I’ll let you know.