A tale of two kitties

Ethel is the barn kitty in residence at the McPolack homestead. She used to be named "Number 5" because she was the fifth kitten in a litter of five that Fred (good job sexing that cat, Polackpappy!) gave birth to before I had her fixed when I was living with Babcia on the farm. I was trying not to get attached, see. Because there were all these kittens there and I worried for them and in fact I used to have bad dreams about them -- dreams in which there were kittens everywhere, getting run over by cars, or torn apart by coyotes, or just making more kittens so that I could never rest.

It was bad.

Number 5/Ethel was the runt of the litter and she was very shy. Despite trying to stay unattached, I did spend the better part of a summer taming her. I'd bring her food bowl out and sit five feet away from it and inch ever closer until I could sit next to it while she was eating. Now of course when I go out in the barn she runs over to me and climbs in my lap where she lays, drooling in ecstasy, while I pat her.

Daphne-Moon is a Babcia barn kitty as well and she started out a wee bit shy but quickly fell in love with laying on or next to you while bathing herself. Since she's been indoors most of her life, and with me alone for the past few years, she's gotten spoiled. She doesn't really like change; it makes her pissy. She's mad I brought her to NH. When I came upstairs this afternoon (ostensibly to do some work), she ran under the bed in the guest room. When I ducked my head down to talk to her she ran across the hall and under the bed in my parents room. None of her bratty behavior stops me from loving her so much that I'm embarrassed for myself sometimes.

Ethel has not lived such a pampered life. When I went out into the barn this morning to feed her, I discovered she'd left two kills for me -- a red squirrel and a rat. All that was left of the red squirrel was its face and a couple of internal organs. There wasn't much left of the rat either -- its eyes were open and it had little yellow rat teeth and wee ratty whiskers. Ethel had left the rat-face between two little rat forelegs, complete with paws. It was very Godfather-esque. She's got a real flair for the dramatic. She's also a tiny adorable ball of fluff. A tiny adorable eviscerating killer.