“Five kittens living in parking lot at FLETC.  Please help.”  The email message kept appearing on my screen.  It was a week before Christmas and it was getting cold.   
    So, into our house came five black and white whirlwinds, running, chasing, jumping, stalking, climbing.   
    My husband and I adapted easily and spent hours watching the fun.
Our five adult cats, however, did not adapt so easily.   
     Camille, our partially blind calico cat, was the first to see them.  She had adopted my husband years ago.  He saw her, hungry and hurt, and started feeding her.  When she satisfied herself that he was trustworthy, she brought him three kittens she was trying to raise in the wild with no claws.  We found homes for the kittens, but there were no takers for our poor battered Camille, so we kept her.  
    When she saw the Christmas kittens, she froze, then started moving backwards.  “Oh no.”  She said.  “If you think I’m raising them, you’re crazy.”  She promptly disappeared.
    The minute Roberto, our enormous marmalade tabby cat, saw them, he went into a fit.  His eyes bugged out, he crouched down and started to emit an alternately high and low pitched yeowl that I had never heard before.  During the two months the kittens were with us, he became the pictograph for the word apoplectic.  He couldn’t even eat without mumbling about the kittens under his breath.  He would take a few bites and yeowl, take a few more bites and yeowl some more. 
    Interestingly enough our oldest cat, Philipo, was the one least bothered by the kittens.  He would sit in the middle of the floor and vaguely watch them scurrying everywhere, a little perplexed, but nothing more.  If one of them came near enough, he might reach out a paw, not in anger, just in interest.  “Come here and let me see what you are.”
    Lilli, our ocicat, was a different matter entirely.  Philipo asked her one morning what she thought they ought to do about the kittens.  “Eat them.”  Lilli replied.  Not one kitten even got near Lilli.  She has that kind of presence.  Even our adult boy cats flinch if they happen to make eye contact with her.
    Neal, our Burmese cat was the most surprising.  He was terrified of the flying demons that had been unleashed in his domain.  He promptly took to his bed and announced that he was not going out of the bedroom until they left.  I had to take him downstairs inside his kitty cube and put him on the counter with food before he would eat.  I did this for two months.
    But, we all survived.  We found homes for the five little souls, born in a parking lot.  I cried when each one left.  It was like seeing my child leave with a spouse I didn’t completely trust to take care of them.  Our five adult cats are high-fiving each other and getting back to their routine.  Please foster, adopt, rescue, love.