A tumble of tomkittens

Blacky, aka Knarr, has been visiting us again. Much to the dismay and worry of his owners who didn’t have a clue where their little baby had gone off to for the night. When I brought their precious kitty back (in the travel-box of course, I NEVER walk with a cat in my arms on the street) I explained the situation to them and they were relieved. The lady scolded me for feeding him, that would have lured him to us. I tried to explain to her that we don’t feed our cats in the garden but that our kitten Hrimnir has been showing his little neighbour how to get in through the cat-flap and how to help himself at our kitty-buffet in the House of Chaos. I fear she didn’t believe me much.

We were enjoying dinner in the sunny Garden of Chaos, a nice cheese-fondue that went well with a chilled bottle of Liebfraumilch, when we heard frantic kitten-miews coming from the bush that covers the wall between our garden and that of the neighbours behind us. First thing we did was locate Hrimnir – who was sitting in the grass – *check*. So it had to be Knarr… right ? First Grumpy Man tried to reach the hollering fellow, then Bouncing Psycho, being a good head taller, managed to pluck the kitten-siren from the bush and lowered him onto the grass, where he was enthusiastically greeted by Hrimnir.

Bean Sidhe, just leaving the House, was seen with the desperate expression of “OH NOES!” on his furry face before he dashed off to the safety of the shed. He absolutely adores Hrimnir, but for some obscure reason abhors Knarr. Zorro, lying on a workbench under the awning couldn’t care less, when I offered him the hapless kit for inspection he did a polite sniff and then continued to amaze us by ignoring the tyke. Loup-Garou had found himself a spot in the sun and couldn’t be bothered at all. But Hrimnir… oh joy… As happy as a pig in the mud he wallowed all over with his age-mate. Playing with Bean Sidhe has its drawbacks: it is difficult to imagine fierce battles between gruesome opponents when said opponent lazily swats at you while basking in the sun. But with Knarr it’s no holds barred and everything given… I saw little razor-sharp claws flashing in the sunlight, tails ferociously swishing, snarls on tiny furry faces that would stop your heart with fright had these faces been not so tiny.

You could say that the next few hours were filled with frolicking and dashing and tumbling and pawing and sneaking and pouncing and wiggling butts and all other kinds of kitty mischief that you can only summarize as… a tumble of tomkittens. At ages 17 weeks and 10 weeks now both kittens are boisterous to say the least and the elder cats graciously (and cautiously) left over the Garden to the troublesome twain whilst seeking calmer environs. I hastily removed the fondue (which had been finished off anyway) and glass-ware (which was emptied to satisfaction) but needed not to worry since both kittens are still too small to move anything bigger than a stool when bumping into it. Yet the vigorous play would continue into the sun-set until both were too exhausted to lift a paw once more.

At which moment Hrimnir decided to show little Knarr how to navigate through the cat-flap and make a bee-line towards the feeding bowls. After which they both fell happily asleep in the Couch, as Bestest Friends Ever. At one moment during the evening though the Mistress and Grumpy Man were unpleasantly surprised to find the black tyke hollering his lungs out in front of their closed bedroom door. We decided to put him back into the garden and have him find his way back home as any proper exploratory kitten should.

The next morning Bouncing Psycho found Knarr in the adjacent garden, howling his tiny head off. Before he could climb over to retrieve him the adventurous kitten had already scaled the fence all by himself and landed once more in the Garden of Chaos. Where a very happy Hrimnir was waiting for him with open paws. After a nice breakfast the kittens set to playing again, with all the ferocity their tiny bodies could display, and generally wreaked merry havoc. But Knarr’s little mistress was calling from her garden, and her mother too. Bouncing Psycho yelled back where he was and told them to come and retrieve him. Which they decided not to, knowing that Grumpy Man works nightshifts and sleeps during the day. They feared his wrath. Eventually I had to fetch the travel-box and carry him over (walking around the block with a howling kitten in your basket is quite the adventure really… but tame compared to Hrimnir who tries to tear the box up with all his tiny might…).

But not after I had a quiet lie-down in the Couch first with a good book and two little kittens happily snoring alongside my half-prone form. I am used to Hrimnir’s majestic rumbling purr, but Knarr’s is more a sedate buzz and is quite pleasant to experience. I do however prefer the rumble above the buzz. It is more soothing somehow, and certainly has more body. Especially if you realize what tiny body has been emitting it.

Pictures below:

Grappling like pros…

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Bean Sidhe: “Get away from me !!!”
Knarr: “B-b-b-but…”

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Poor little Knarr… maybe he’ll get a more hospitable reception on board of the Friday Ark ?

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