Even though I was afflicted with a terrible illness on Thursday and Friday, I still managed to make it up to North Carolina to spend Father’s Day weekend with my dear old dad. And boy, am I glad I made it, because something big happened at our house this weekend!
Our Saturday started off normally enough. Dad goes out to breakfast and to the flea market with his buddies every Saturday, but since it was Father’s Day weekend, William, Mom and me went him instead. Breakfast was at J&S Cafeteria, and it was epic. Probably four pounds of breakfast meat was consumed between the four of us. Then it was off to the flea market. Great deals were found by all.
Then we decided to stop by Michaels, the arts and crafts superstore, because there was a seasonal centerpiece that Mom wanted to show me. Michaels is right next to a pet store; two weeks ago, my family saw an adorable little kitten at that pet store and they have not stopped talking about that kitten since. As we pulled into the parking lot, Dad and William agreed that if the kitten was still there, he was coming home with us. Even Mom, who doesn’t like having to worry about new cats coming in and scratching things, said it was okay if the cat came home, mainly because she thought that kitten had long since been adopted.
Well, Dad didn’t even go into Michaels with everyone else. He ran straight to the pet store and guess what—the kitten was still there!! But since flea market days start very early---you have to be at the cafeteria at 6 am so you can get to the flea market before the good things are gone---we figured we weren’t going to be able to hold the kitten, because the adoption ladies weren’t due to show up for a few more hours. This made me sad because this kitten truly was the most adorable cat I had ever seen. Luckily for us, though, an adoption lady showed up early! While you could tell that she just wanted to set up and get things ready, she let us play with the kitten. And, because that kitten was just too cute to give back, she let us go ahead and start the adoption process a few hours early!
Dad had to fill out eleventy billion papers, probably more adoption papers than Madonna had to fill out when she adopted her orphans from Malawi. While he did all the paperwork, William and I traded off holding the kitten and tried to think of some names. Eventually we got to go home, and the little guy was just captivated by the world. So captivated that he pooped in the box.
But now, as loyal readers know, Mom and Dad already have one cat at home that we all dearly love – lil’ Tiki. Tiki is, how you say, spoiled rotten. So she was none too happy to see this little version of herself show up in the house, and I don’t know that we did a great job introducing the two because there was some hissing involved. No one wanted to go with my idea, which was trying to make Tiki think that she had given birth to the kitten. How would I have done that? By getting Tiki so sick that she threw up, then quickly covering the kitten in vomit and presenting it to Tiki. Then she would care for it as if it were her own. Genius, right? Sadly, we did not use this idea.
During the introduction process, my heart was torn in half. On the one hand, the experience brought up some subconscious memories of what it was like to be an only child, the sole apple of my parents’ eye, until one day when they brought my baby brother home. My life was never the same. So I knew how Tiki was feeling. But on the other hand, Tiki has never been that nice to me. She has a tendency to scratch me and never let me pet her, whereas the new kitten had already proved to be an affectionate lovebug. So while I knew how the first cat felt, the second cat was rapidly stealing my heart.
Our Saturday started off normally enough. Dad goes out to breakfast and to the flea market with his buddies every Saturday, but since it was Father’s Day weekend, William, Mom and me went him instead. Breakfast was at J&S Cafeteria, and it was epic. Probably four pounds of breakfast meat was consumed between the four of us. Then it was off to the flea market. Great deals were found by all.
Then we decided to stop by Michaels, the arts and crafts superstore, because there was a seasonal centerpiece that Mom wanted to show me. Michaels is right next to a pet store; two weeks ago, my family saw an adorable little kitten at that pet store and they have not stopped talking about that kitten since. As we pulled into the parking lot, Dad and William agreed that if the kitten was still there, he was coming home with us. Even Mom, who doesn’t like having to worry about new cats coming in and scratching things, said it was okay if the cat came home, mainly because she thought that kitten had long since been adopted.
Well, Dad didn’t even go into Michaels with everyone else. He ran straight to the pet store and guess what—the kitten was still there!! But since flea market days start very early---you have to be at the cafeteria at 6 am so you can get to the flea market before the good things are gone---we figured we weren’t going to be able to hold the kitten, because the adoption ladies weren’t due to show up for a few more hours. This made me sad because this kitten truly was the most adorable cat I had ever seen. Luckily for us, though, an adoption lady showed up early! While you could tell that she just wanted to set up and get things ready, she let us play with the kitten. And, because that kitten was just too cute to give back, she let us go ahead and start the adoption process a few hours early!
Dad had to fill out eleventy billion papers, probably more adoption papers than Madonna had to fill out when she adopted her orphans from Malawi. While he did all the paperwork, William and I traded off holding the kitten and tried to think of some names. Eventually we got to go home, and the little guy was just captivated by the world. So captivated that he pooped in the box.
But now, as loyal readers know, Mom and Dad already have one cat at home that we all dearly love – lil’ Tiki. Tiki is, how you say, spoiled rotten. So she was none too happy to see this little version of herself show up in the house, and I don’t know that we did a great job introducing the two because there was some hissing involved. No one wanted to go with my idea, which was trying to make Tiki think that she had given birth to the kitten. How would I have done that? By getting Tiki so sick that she threw up, then quickly covering the kitten in vomit and presenting it to Tiki. Then she would care for it as if it were her own. Genius, right? Sadly, we did not use this idea.
During the introduction process, my heart was torn in half. On the one hand, the experience brought up some subconscious memories of what it was like to be an only child, the sole apple of my parents’ eye, until one day when they brought my baby brother home. My life was never the same. So I knew how Tiki was feeling. But on the other hand, Tiki has never been that nice to me. She has a tendency to scratch me and never let me pet her, whereas the new kitten had already proved to be an affectionate lovebug. So while I knew how the first cat felt, the second cat was rapidly stealing my heart.
Over a lunch of hot dogs, we decided to name the kitten Ronde. As you might remember, Tiki is named for Tiki Barber, who played football for Dad’s alma mater, the University of Virginia. Ronde is the name of Tiki’s twin brother; the name Oronde means first-born son in Swahili. For the rest of the day, Tiki was moody, while Ronde was adorable.
Since we decided that Tiki should get to sleep at the foot of Mom and Dad’s bed, per usual, so that she didn't feel like she'd been replaced, I got to take little Ronde up to my bedroom for the night. Ronde woke up every two hours, which made me very tired, but every time Ronde woke me up, he’d try to make it up to me by putting his little paws on either side of my face and giving me little cat kisses. Geez. I just don’t know if I’m getting across how frickin adorable this little guy is.
Tiki was none too pleased when Ronde and I emerged the next day; perhaps she thought it was a bad dream and the kitten would be gone in the morning. I had to leave the cats to come back to Atlanta, but I hope that by the next time I return, they’ll have become good buddies. My greatest fear is that Tiki will tell Ronde not to be so sweet to me. But hopefully Ronde will have better persuasive skills, and I will have two cat friends in Candler.
I couldn’t get a great picture of Ronde, one that captures all his cuteness. Here he is with his eyes closed:
And this is not a very good picture of me, but at least Ronde has his eyes open:
And this is how Tiki looked all weekend. She literally shot green lasers of hate at all of us.
And this is how Tiki looked all weekend. She literally shot green lasers of hate at all of us.
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