Part Twelve

Dr. Frankenstein had his moments of regret. After all, despite creating life, he also created a rampaging monster. After last night, the Big Cat knows how the good doctor felt. But let me back up. Last night I had a CAMH dinner that kept me out most of the evening – I got home at 10:30. As regular readers of the Kitten Chronicles know, this means no cuddling – my arrival signals the opening bell on a non-stop kitten wrestling match. Biting, pouncing, chasing, and general treachery are all skills that are being honed. But for what?, I started to think. The answer came to me quickly. So they can be furry killing machines. Deadly to mice, birds, other cats who mistakenly enter their territory... Innocent play? No. Training for devastation and destruction. The boys have a new trick – running up the inside of my jeans. This has resulted in my legs looking like I’ve beenballroom dancing through a barbed wire fence. Combine these hundreds of small punctures with the salt in the sweat produced by our current heat wave -and you get severe discomfort. I believe they use this kind of torture on 24. Jack Bauer holds a kitten in each hand while questioning the suspected terrorist. They give up the information immediately. For the time being I can controlthese feline assassins – they only weigh about a pound and a half. But what happens when they grow to full size? Maybe some sliding bolts on the bedroom door will keep them at bay. Or a tazer. Where can you buy those things anyway? TazerMart?