Tom And Tom

[Fourth in a series]

Having been raised as a city boy and not spending much time in the country, I wasn't particularly privy to animal husbandry, even less so than the vet who didn't realize that BabyDoll was full of kittens.

One evening in late winter, I knew that whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. I'd just come in from the laundry room with a basket-load of clothes, when out the corner of my eye I saw BabyDoll at the end of the hall. Hunkering down and ready to pounce, she started her run. At the speed she was running, I had to act fast. Using the basket of clothes to add to my spinning force, I spun and kicked to door closed just in time. In the process, she ran headlong into the door, shook it off, and had that classic feline look of "I planned on doing that."

And in the ensuing almost-two-decades she never once tried to get out again.

BabyDoll was mostly tabby with a bit of calico mixed in for good measure. A Domestic Shorthair if ever there was one. That winter she had just three kittens; it was her first and only litter. And judging by their markings, it became apparent that BabyDoll had been in the company of not one but two Toms. In fact, I later saw a jet-black tom and a Siamese tom a few weeks later. She had two Siamese-tabby mixes and one tabby mix that can only be described as a black tabby. Beautiful kittens.

And a beautiful BabyDoll.

More Monday evening...