Caring for Tiger and Lucy is a joint project. Each morning and evening, JT checks to make sure their bowl is full of kibble and fresh water. Because of these kittens, he is learning that loving someone means caring for them in ways both big and small, a valuable lesson.
In the three years that they have stalked our house, Tiger and Lucy have contributed so much to our sense of home. They greet us at the front door when we return from school in the afternoon; they join us in JT's bed for stories each night; they curl up by our side and on our laps whenever the opportunity arises (and even when it doesn't....I am writing this post with just one hand thanks to Tiger's presence on my lap). They provide comfort, affection, and laughter in our home. They may be little and four-legged, but they loom large in our lives.
They are family.
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Just this morning, apropos of our own beloved cats, I was reading to D. from the opening of Twain's _Pudd'nhead Wilson_:
When there was room on the [window] ledge outside of the pots and boxes for a cat, the cat was there -- in sunny weather -- stretched at full length, asleep and blissful, with her furry belly to the sun and a paw curved over her nose. Then that house was complete, and its contentment and peace were made manifest to the world by this symbol, whose testimony is infallible. A home without a cat -- and a well-fed, well-petted, and properly revered cat -- may be a perfect home, perhaps, but how can it prove title?
I'm so jealous of your sweet cats. My cat is such a tool. The only time he ever wants someone to pet him is if you are in bed sleeping and he gets to wake you up. I could go on and on about my vicious, repairman-attacking beast of a cat. Lucky you with your sweeties. :)
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