A feral black cat was hanging around the red barn. I don’t know why we call it the red barn because the front is not red, but I digress. I went into the barn to get my drill, and a fleet-footed kitten managed to charge past me, slip on the cement floor, and make an escape under the motorhome.
Ruth wanted a cat, and we thought, perfect. We trapped a kitten, and then another, and then another. They were not tame. Undaunted, we brought them down to the laundry room and tried to tame them. I am not a cat lover, but I made high-pitched “kitty, kitty” sounds when I was around them.
We went off with our motorhome friends for a few days, and TOR (The Other Ruth) took care of them and sent cute pictures.
As you can see, they learned to climb up the dryer hose to the ground-level window. This endeared the kittens to us, and we thought they would be tame soon.
Not so much. What we didn’t know was that the midget felines were visiting Mother on the other side of the window. Mama cat was pulling the flaps off the dryer vent, one by one.
Then this picture arrived. Those who are quick off the mark will see that TOR had stuffed rags in the vent pipe. I would have liked to have seen the moment when the hose unraveled.
Those who fret over animal safety will be happy to know that no kittens were injured during the making of this story.
When we got home, Ruth continued the taming process by putting the kitties in a giant cat carrier on the patio. All attempts to hold or pet them failed. Not being a heartless person, she watched Mama Kitty sit by the cage while the little ones climbed up and down. Ruth relented, and the kittens wandered off with Mama, honing themselves under her neck.
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