No grandchildren it is true, but I do have Kitty Pickler to nurture. Amber (our daughter)is off on an extended roadtrip so Kitty Pickler is spending the week with Mike and I. Now you might wonder where such a silly name as "Kitty Pickler" ever originated from. Let me just say that anyone who knows us intimately is aware that we are closet idol fans. Relentless watchers of the mundane.
Might you remember a certain American Idol hopeful by the name of Kelly Pickler? Yup, now the old wheels are turning aren't they?
You see, it was I who was originally in pursuit of a pet kitten. When I visited the home of a ragdoll breeder I immediately fell for a wild looking all white ragdoll with a penchant for the naughty. A little minx one might say.
"Hey Pickler" (here he comes now)...up onto the desk and planting his furry physique on the computer scanner. Whats happening Mr Pickler? Time for a quick clean. Rub a dub dub licks his paw instead of dippin in the ole' bathtub. For Mr. Pickler the bathtub has but one purpose. Getting high. He absolutely loves it when I put some catnip in the tub. Jumps right in and rolls around like a mosher in a slippery pit. Not that I can recollect exactly how that there metaphor might feel given my aversion for all things moshing.
Anyway, so there I am at the breeders home having already laid claim to my new kitten when I notice a very large ragdoll locked up in a kennel. "What is that cat doing locked up?" I naively asked the breeder. "He is the stud, can't let him wander or he sprays" she replied. "Oh? So he is like jailed for a crime you make him commit? That hardly seems fair" I said. She was starting to look sideways at me like maybe it was time to collect the fee and send the crazy-want-a-kitty lady on her way.
"Is that his dad" I asked pointing to the imprisoned while clutching my precious bundle of fur. "That there stud is every kitty's dad around here" was her rather bored reply. Looking around at several wandering cats it occurred to me that these must be the birthing machines. "Is his mom here?" I asked. "Ya, over in the box there with the rest of the litter" she said with a point of the finger. Following the direction of her pointing digit I walked over to a large box on the floor. Sure enough there was a cat with several kittens nursing on her tits. I am so very happy that the human mammal has but one set of very strategically placed breasts.
"Why isn't he in there nursing too?" I asked turning to the breeder in my maternal stance. "She pushed him out, they do that sometimes to some of the litter. Don't seem like a bad idea now does it?" she said with a smoker's cough amidst peals of laughter.
So, his mom doesn't want him & his dad is in jail? Who is nursing him then? "Well, his grandma took over when he was pushed out of the box." "Really? But, I didn't know cats could keep nursing long after they were done breeding!" I said with a measure of awe & relief. "They don't" came the quick reply of a breeder who was fast losing my r-e-s-p-e-c-t. "She may be a grandma, but she is still having litters of her own." That was enough for me, I tossed her my money, snatched up my kitty and headed for the door.
Once to my car I gently arranged my precious cargo in his new kennel that I had brought along. Securing the seatbelt around the kennel I got behind the wheel and started for home.
Driving home I started thinking, well actually I had been thinking quite continuously up to that moment because as Mike often remarks; "honey you have got to learn to quit thinking all the time" which (just between me & you) is a little something I have not yet mastered. So anyway, my thoughts turned to trying to decide on a proper name for this little bundle of fur.
Let me see, his dad is in jail, his mother rejected him and his grandma was his source of nurturing. That sure sounded a lot like my idol favorite that season - Kelly Pickler, hmm Kelly isn't such a hot name for a cat, by golly I've got it..."Kitty Pickler". I love a name with a solid history and this one was perfect.
Okay, so now you are probably wondering why after all that interest on my part Mr. Pickler is now the proud pet of Amber.
Well, apparently if a kitten is weaned too soon that kitten has the propensity to take up some very annoying habits such as the late night suckling on his tired feeder's neck. Obviously when push came to shove we knew who the real animal lover was.
After one particularly difficult night of being awakened several times to a sucking ball of fur, I got out of bed, placed said fur ball outside of my bedroom and shut the door. I fell back onto my pillow lulled to sleep by the distant sound of a crying kitty. In the morning I opened the door & found my punishment for kitty banning. A puddle on the floor. I stormed over to the house phone and immediately called Amber. "Do you want this damn cat?!?" I practically yelled into the phone. "Cause if you don't he is on his way to the pound." "What!" Amber was clearly trying to come out of a sleeper's fog and understand what I was threatening. "You can't take him to the pound, I will take him."
And so, just as the king determined who the real mother of a particular infant was with a threat of cutting the baby in two, we realized Kitty Pickler's real home was with the cat lover, not the "
I am in the mood for a little lackadaisical nurturing cat owner wannabe".
But, as Amber loves to be on the go, we still get to see plenty of Kitty Pickler as we are his guardians in waiting.
Hey Mr. Pickler, how about some canned salmon (all the Pickler's love their salmon).....
