The Little Pack

We gave Jackson his first haircut over the weekend. He is 8. It was like shearing a sheep. It took a long time and he hated every minute of it. But as soon as it was done, we went outside. Once he felt the wind on his newly shorn skin, he was like a puppy reborn. I am not sure  if he was experiencing something akin to the swimmer’s feel for the water post-shaving, but he was beside himself with joy. The first time we shaved Archie, the vet tech who did it told me that cats come to either strutting or hiding. Archie hid. Well, Jack’s no cat, but came out of the experience strutting. Not only does he look like a puppy again, he is acting like one too. I wasn’t quite prepared for just how big his ears would be though and I still haven’t adapted to how small he really is. But I love seeing him this happy, and I think he is absolutely adorable this way.

I woke up to nose nibbles and headrolls from IO. Nose nibbles are the way IO gives her highest praise, reserved for only the most special times. A nose nibble is a “kiss” on the nose, she sort of quickly grabs and releases the end of your nose with her mouth. It sounds gross, sure, but it is actually very sweet. Headrolls are also a celebration of love by The Miss, but an everyday celebration–kind of like a hug. When she wakes up, she will walk up next me, put her head on my shoulder and roll her body so that she is pressed as tight against me as possible.  This is how she has been saying good morning to me for years and I love it. This was a very special way to start the day.

One day, I was doing laundry and switched the load from the washer to the dryer. I turned it on and heard THUNK.. THUNK.. I thought, hmm.. weird.. THUNK… THUNK.. no shoes.. what the… I opened the dryer and surprisingly Baby Titten leaped out. At the time, BT was about 8 months or so. Still curious. Still a pistol. Apparently she had sneaked into the laundry room and decided to explore her surroundings. Oh my God. I cannot convey the immediate, simultaneous fear and relief that I felt. I grabbed her and held her close, and BT, not a cuddler, and even less so then, clung to me for dear life; our hearts pounded in unison. Her fur was static-y and warm, and I was apparently pale as a ghost. We held each other for what seemed like forever. That was beyond a close call. Although she only went around 2 full times, she could easily have snapped her neck in the short amount of time it took me to open the dryer door. To this day I have a fear of the dryer and even though at 15 and 17 pounds respectively, the thuds would be much louder I have to physically touch each cat when the dryer is going to reassure myself they will not be lost in this horrible way.