This Sunday morning greeted both Cougar and I with a glint of grey light filtering through our curtains and the loud, obnoxious, incessant cry of our youngest, only six weeks old. I am, of course, referring to our foster kitten, Frejya (pronounce ‘frey-ya), that we brought home from our local animal shelter. Despite being an adorable kitten with bright blue eyes, she displayed a small amount of aggression that indicted she was from a feral mom, and thus herself being feral. In order for her to be truly adoptable, she’d need time in a loving environment to become social.
Two weeks have passed since arriving home and she has already made great strides in becoming the lovable kitten we all know she can be. Her purrs greet both my husband and I whenever she sees us; she lovingly curls up onto your lap, nestling herself in the crook of your shoulder and neck, purring loud enough to keep you awake.
Unable to ignore the cries any longer, I donned my jeans, shirt, and slippers, and sleepily made my way to the bathroom, which doubles as her personal castle, where she is undoubtedly queen. Her Majesty was displaying a hunger that rivaled that of a lioness with young cubs, so I knew I had to act quick, despite the lack of coffee. With speed as quick as an elderly person with a walker crossing the road, I opened her can of kitten food and proceeded to feed the Goddess Frejya.
What happened next is still a bit of a blur, though the effects will remain lasting for about two weeks; the normal length of time to heal from scratches and bruises.
The seal of the can had been broken for only a split of a second before she launched herself out of her perch, about four feet away and onto my thigh. Still not exactly awake, I shook her off, muttering a half hearted, ‘no.’
The lid was about halfway back now when she returned for more and the fur began to fly. This sweet, heart melting, more sugar than any German dare use kitten that weighs less than two pounds morphed into something rivaling that of tigress with skills of Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee combined. Suddenly I became the direct route that led to the quarry which she so desperately desired and it didn’t matter if she destroyed the hand, let alone the body, that fed her.
She had firmly latched herself onto my leg, clawing her way up. My desperate attempts to shake the naughty little beastie off were feeble at best and my pleas for help went unnoticed as my husband, who does this for a living, was taking enjoyment out of someone else’s misery. Able to finally dislodge her, I resumed the task at hand, vowing to be like Speed Racer; my reward being a cup of coffee I felt I richly deserved. But she wasn’t done with me yet.
Revamping her tactics, she climbed the wall in the manner of Jackie Chan. Halfway up, she arched her back and grinned at me. Embodying Neo from ‘The Matrix,’ and in slow motion, she spun around, striking a pose in mid air before latching herself to my chest. There was a short pause where we each sized the other up. She thought she had me, but she didn’t consider my own Trinity like quickness as I yanked her from now tattered skin.
Her third attack came from out of nowhere. With everything she had, including her teeth, she nailed her sharp little daggers into my flesh, looking at me with a deranged look in her eye that suggested this was just the beginning if I didn’t hurry the hell up. With a snarl, she inched up toward my pelvis, still using her needle like teeth. My pleas turned to terrified screams as she neared an area where teeth should never be used, and I gyrated in a way that would make Elvis proud, hopelessly trying to eject the Little Evil One. My husband was now incapacitated with laughter and of no help.
I reasoned, I pleaded, I begged, but all to no avail. She was on a mission and it wasn’t from God. As she began to deliver her final, lethal blow, I managed to set down her canned kitty food and she released me, turning back into the sweet, innocent, little kitten I had known her to be, not more than two minutes earlier. Able to move freely about, I gathered the necessary supplies to bandage myself up and left the little demon to eat in peace.
With my lesson learned and sufficiently bandaged, I joined my husband and now fully understood why he always prep the food prior to actually feeding the animals.