The Adventures of Miss Kit

Miss Kit’s life has begun to get a lot more interesting. Mrs Grey has taken her education in hand. This has both an up-side and a down-side; on the one hand, Mrs G. has a marked tendency to knock her spinning across the floor on the grounds (presumably) that she has either just done something awful or is just about to. We do not interfere, since the kitten seems never actually to be damaged, and the net result is that there is at least one member of the household she treats with a measure of respect. But the up side, from the kitten point of view, a major one, is that she has taken to bringing in small, stunned mice and dropping them in front of Miss Kit to see what happens. Se then sits sphinx-like, ears pointed well forward, watching with interest while Miss K makes a bog of it, and apparently marking her out of 10. Attempts to remove the unfortunate rodent from Miss Kit’s grasp are met with horrible menacing growls, incidentally; like Mrs Grey, she is taking this all deadly seriously. Toy mice have lost their appeal.
But a four-month-old kitten cannot be a tiger all the time. If she is in an are-you-my-mummy? mood, the kitten never thinks of applying to Mrs Grey – she goes straight to Miss Best Friend, who will nuzzle her, lick her a bit, and give her a cuddle. So she seems to have things sorted.
She came for her first long walk today. Up the hill to our neighbours, trotting along gamely behind me and the dogs. But of course when we got up to the house, Johnny Rotten the Jack Russell heard us moving about and barked his head off from (fortunately) his outside run. Very frightening for a small kitten a long way from home for the first time; she wailed pathetically, and dithered; should she leave the safety of the wall behind which she was hidden, or come to me for protection in the middle of the stubble field? She came to me, in fact, despite the pools of mud in the way. Then there was Miss T on her quad-bike. Very noisy, very fast; so tiny kit headed down towards Burnside at speed. After which I decided to follow her, take my collection of animals down the road, try & post Miss Kit back into the house, and continue with the dogs in another direction. But the way down involved Barnyards in his red land-rover, heading down, and Miss T’s dad in the blue van, heading up. On both occasions, Miss Kit, under stress, leaped into the ditch at the approach of one & the other vehicle, and scrambled up the other bank, screaming. By the time we got home – it has been raining, and everything is very wet – she looked as if she had been playing rugby. Her fur was staring wet, draggled into points, and her tail was thick with black mud. She did not, however, appear any the worse for wear. I put her into the house, took the dogs for their walk, and came back to find her reasonably dry and silky apart from the tail which she had given up on – I combed the mud out of it while she screeched with fury and tried to bite me. She is a brave little creature, but sufficiently intrepid that I begin to feel, soggy liberal that I am in most circumstances, that Mrs Grey’s Spare the Paw and Spoil the Kitten policy has something to be said for it.

One Response to “The Adventures of Miss Kit”

  1. Eleanor Says:

    Must have been the stage of the moon. Gladys sneaked in her first fall mouse the other morning. She stands at the door to be let in with the mouse hidden in her mouth, saying between gritted teeth, “Let me in. I haven’t anything. Really…” I understand that kittens will “play” at catching things and playing with them without instruction, but do not know how to actually kill something without the lessons from mom. Perhaps Mrs. Grey is suitably taking Miss Kit to class.

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