One by one, each of seven orange tabby boys and six calico girls came out of that tiny, rapidly-deflating, yet of course still quite hate-filled kitten.Įach one, he took and introduced to her, so she could do her thing, with the licking and the umbilicus-eating or whatever the fuck it was i couldn't see from my vantage point across the empty bedroom of our empty apartment, watching him with a kind of horrified wonder. He took all thirteen of them out of her with his hands.Ĭats are sexually mature at six months-and if she was even a day older than that when she got enkittened my name is maggie smith and i am a treasure.

Prego-prego: thirteen kittens came out of her, two weeks after my boyfriend made me fetch a box and some kibble and seduce the evil bitch into our home, which took like two hours and is another story entirely, mostly because i still love him for this, wherever the hell he is right now, loving and/or abandoning other people in spectacular ways or just, you know, being whole without me. With the hissing and the-i mean, she used to poop in our bathroom sink, because actual cat litter confused her? so i had dogs.Īnd one night he was walking the dogs, and he saw this kitten in the park, about as pregnant as it gets for a kitten, like an orangey tabby basketball with a sweet face and a ridiculously perky tail and a deep distrust of all things with either more or fewer legs than she.Īlso things with exactly as many legs as she. The dude i moved into this place with? he had dogs. I'm not- was not-a cat person by any stretch of anyone's imagination. I mean-yyyes, i actually have three, and they're all crazy in fresh and exciting ways*, but one in particular. I have this one cat who's well crazy, right? Just-just lemme finish seeping fluids for a minute.

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