“Easier than puppies,” she replied. “They poop in a box, don’t chew your shoes.”
“And claw my furniture to shreds.” I sighed. “Besides, we have Max.”
I glanced at Max, lying on the floor on his back with all four paws in the air. I sighed again.
“Daaad.” Declan’s long protest told me just how much he wanted this to happen. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
“Pets teach kids responsibility,” Jacy murmured into her enchilada. “Max is more your dog than Declan’s.”
“I’ll clean the box every day,” Declan promised. “And feed it. I’ll make it not claw the furniture, too.”
“Thanks for implanting this into my kid’s mind,” I muttered from the side of my mouth.
“You’re welcome.”
“Daaad.”
“Somehow I feel I’m outnumbered,” I commented. “Are we talking about a single kitten?”
“These are brother and sister,” Jacy replied. “A bonded pair. The owners are asking they stay together.”
“Ai-yi-yi.” I shook my head. “I don’t know jack about cats.”
“You can learn. Along with Declan.”
I glowered into Declan’s happy and hopeful face. “You make sure they don’t scratch the crap outta my sofa.”
***
The kittens were nearly identical gray tabbies. Declan named them Peter and Wendy after he saw the Disney classicPeter Pan.How they bonded with him, and primarily him, remained a mystery to me. Jacy told me they followed him everywhere, sat on the tub’s side while he bathed, and I witnessed for myself how they slept with him every night.
Max, that big brave mutt, was terrified of them. When first introduced, the kittens puffed up like outraged porcupines,hissing and growling. Max yipped in horror, and jumped onto the sofa, trying to hide in the pillows. I rolled my eyes.
“They aren’t any bigger than his paw,” I grumbled. “Jeez.”
Jacy laughed. “Give them time. In days, they’ll be inseparable.”
Still, time passed, and Max avoided the pair as though they were mini tigers ready to yank his guts from his belly and eat them.
Being kittens, of course, they tore through the house like mini tornados, climbed the curtains, wrestled with each other, quarreled over toys, got onto the kitchen table and counters, cried for snacks from the dinner table.
“I don’t like them on the counter,” I objected.
“I’ll keep it clean, Dad,” Declan said, eager. “Jacy says it’s hard to keep them off things.”
“You can try,” Jacy added with a shrug. “But cats are cats. They do their own thing.”
“Just use a good cleaner on the table and counters before you fix a meal,” I growled. “I really don’t want kitty germs in my dinner.”
Jacy snorted laughter.
Wendy and Peter sat on the counter, staring at us hopefully as we ate our meal. Jacy cut up small pieces of leftover chicken for them, explaining to Declan what was good for cats and what wasn’t. I watched in disbelief as the kittens were spoiled rotten in front of my very eyes.
“Now they’ll never eat their own chow,” I complained.
“Sure they will,” Jacy replied calmly. “They’re growing babies.”
I closed the door to Declan’s room after peeking in on him before I went to my own bed. The kittens never opened an eyeand were curled into furry balls on either side of him. Unable to halt it, I smiled at the sight.
