Special Delivery

I seem to have an aura about me. About my whole house, really. As Heather commented on Twitter, "There must be a sign in Cat that says 'Bring kittens here ---->' :-) " It's true, I've always been an ailurophile. I've always loved cats, from wee-teeny fluffballs with sideways ears and still-sealed eyelids to crotchety, wizened old grandma cats. When I was in school and working as a vet, I seemed to have a never-ending stream of kittens/cats that needed homes. I'm not even working anymore, and yet...

At our house this morning, David was calmly playing near the front door when he suddenly started shrieking and signing, "Scared!" while looking at the door. I hugged him and asked Wendy to peek out the door to see if something was on the porch; we occasionally have random big dogs sniffing around our porch. She looked out and said, "Mommy! There's a baby kitty stuck in our door!"

I said, "There is not a baby kitty stuck in our door," as I went to see for myself.

I was right. There was not a baby kitty stuck in our door. There were four baby kitties between the screen door and the front door, and the Mama Cat was poking her head through the screen with number five in her mouth, just like it was a mail slot. Plop! Five kittens stuck in the door.

I brought them inside. I mean, seriously - it was storming, the kittens were wet and terrified, and Mama was looking at me with big, hopeful eyes. Now I have six cats in my bathroom.

One Mama, a petite black longhair, who looks to be about 8 months old.
One baby, an orange shorthair, male.
One baby, a black longhair, male.
Ditto.
Ditto.
One baby, a tortoiseshell longhair, female.


SIGH.

Anyone want a kitten for Easter?