Friday, February 5, 2010

Meet the Nommers - Part II of III


We didn't plan on having any more cats after Big Nom. In fact, Pappa Bear and I had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.

Kali, aka “Little Nom,” showed up in our back yard, in the fall of 2008. A very tiny, very squeaky, very hungry kitten. PB and C-baby canvassed the neighborhood, posting notices on every mailbox, knocking on doors, crossing their fingers behind their backs, hoping nobody would claim her.

(please imagine a short, adorable video of Little Nom on her first day with us here. i tried uploading it, three times, on three different computers. all it did was run and run, for hours and hours and hours... and hours.)

Nobody claimed her. I cannot fathom why. She was the most adorable kitten I had ever met.

We all agree, there is something magical about Little Nom. She casts a spell on you, until you forget all of the other beautiful cats you've ever met in your life. She looks at you with her peach and black double moustache as if to say, "Who, me? Couldn't be!"

All wide-eyed innocence, that one. Kinda like C-baby. Only fuzzier.

I knew she was smart (Little Nom. Well, C-baby, too). I could just tell. So I taught her to sit up for treats. This took about two days. Soon she was sitting on command. It was adorable. She looked like a gopher, a calico-striped gopher. To top it off, she would offer up one paw slightly higher than the other, and tilt her head just slightly. At that time, she was fed downstairs, in the laundry room.

About a day later, I was in the kitchen, prepping my lunch. I glanced down at her. As soon as she saw me looking, up she went into "gopher-pose," one paw up, head tilted.

I melted. How can you resist cuteness like that?

I can't. She got the treat. And when she begged again, she got another piece. And another. Yes, it's true, my Little Nom trained me to give treats at her command. In less than 5 minutes. But you would, too, if she gave you the "gopher-sit-one-paw-up-tilt-head" pose. Don't even try to deny it.

Everything Little Nom does is adorable. The way she prefers to drink water out of a guinea pig bottle strapped to the dog gate. Or, if the bottle is unavailable, the paw-dip-lick-technique. Or the stand-in-the-water-dish-with-three-feet-dip-one-paw-and-lick technique.

The way she busts in on me when I’m in the shower, waiting until the water is shut off so she can sneak behind the curtain and rub cat hairs all over my wet legs. The way she jumps onto my lap and settles down with a big purr when I am reading a catalog on the privy (hey, it’s the only time I spend reading catalogues). The way she loves hiding in cardboard boxes and suitcases. The way she climbs to the top of my clothes drying rack, clearly the Queen of her domain, as neither Big Nom or Baby Nom will follow her up there.

The way she sneak-attacks Big Nom, inciting him to WWF moves on her. The way she wrestles gently with Baby Nom, taking care not to hurt her. And the way she holds and grooms Baby Nom, something Big Nom never allows her to do.

Only one problem about Little Nom. Now we're double our previous nom capacity. I am worried about what the landlord might say. We only have permission for one cat. We're definitely stopping at two. Until we get the farm.

Then we’ll splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.

To be continued……………..

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