Mittens Has A Little Brother

Last week, my oldest son Scott came home with that look in his eye that means, "I know you're not going to like what I did, but I did it anyway."  That look, and a five-week-old kitten he called Daisy.  I guess my husband and I are too tired to fight anymore, because not only did Daisy seamlessly -nay, enthusiastically - integrate into the family, I also got her an appointment at the vet two days hence to quickly curtail the flea-scratching.

The vet appointment quickly confirmed what I had suspected:  my son is terrible at determining the sex of a kitten.  "Daisy" is really "D'Artagnan."  And he really is the cutest thing imaginable.  We are particularly enamored of his habit of playing for 30 minutes with a bedskirt or the bristles on a broom.  It's so hard to resist his playfulness.

Unless you're Mittens.

All she does is growl and hiss and hog the food and water dishes when he's around.  But that only deters him for a half-second.  He wants to be around her so badly.  He mews when he sees her,  creeps as close as he can before she hisses, and stalks her irritably-twitching tail.

Tonight, he was already on my bed when she came in for the night.  Imagine the nasty surprise she got when she jumped up and found him IN HER SPOT.  She wanted to leave in a huff, but I convinced her to stay, and in a few minutes he had crept as close as he dared.

Mittens was not amused.

"La-la-la-la I can't hear you, I'm ignoring you, you're not really here!"

An hour later, they were still sleeping a few inches from each other.  He even crept up close enough to be able to touch her with his front paws.

"I'm still ignoring you."

I suspect it's mostly an act on her part, and once she makes her point and proves her dominance, they'll be snuggling and grooming each other. It's so much fun to watch her defenses crumble!