Growing Boy

Inspirational song: Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood (The Animals)

Every morning starts with a crash. Or the sound of galloping paws and a tumble. Or an argument among quadrupeds. We have entered the Danger Kitten phase of Harvey's growth. He's still utterly terrified of Athena, but he doesn't completely break when he sees her now. He treads lightly, most of the time, or just runs faster than she does when she pursues. And a couple times now, he has stared her down. I'm so proud.

Of course, that stare is just goofy enough to be adorable. The Trash Panda is gently reddened by blush colored points, and his blue eyes are ever so slightly crossed. The eyes aren't crossed enough to be super noticeable, but I think they are responsible for his unreliable jumping results. He crashes into the edges of tables and chairs, and hits the floor almost as often as he lands where he means to. I haven't cleaned all of the surfaces that I need to, and it's starting to be a problem. We kept the dining room table clear for an entire week (not a record, but it's something to be proud of here), but the peninsula in the kitchen is still covered in junk. Harvey has alerted us to the fact that this is an untenable situation. He leaps from the dining room chairs to the peninsula, not because there is any reason for him to be on the counter, but because he can. It's interesting, and new territory for him. To discourage this particular voyage of discovery, the Mr tried to move the chairs farther away from the counter. All this accomplished was to force Harvey to build up a head of steam to jump all that way, so his inertia carried him to the papers on the counter which glided like a wake board off the other side of the peninsula, and onto the floor.

But for all the mess and chaos, for every time an exasperated Mr S-P carries him in facing me belly-first, his legs dangling, telling me, "I believe this shit-gibbon is yours," I am having a blast raising a kitten again. I love watching his personality develop. I love watching him learn things for the first time, like the farty noise a hairbrush makes when you drag the plastic bristles across the upholstery piping on a chair. He watched that for a solid two minutes this morning. The whole world is new in his crossed little eyes, and it's glorious to see it that way. I also think he is brilliant in his defense mechanisms -- whenever he is in trouble, he immediately purrs, and it becomes impossible to be mad at him. He must know how potent that is. He must. I certainly do.