The kittens (who went to the vet last week and are now officially on paper named Maggie [left] and Barker [right] due to the fact that these were the first two names The Caterpillar could say) are getting to be rambunctious teenagers and every so often, I wake up from a good passable night's sleep thinking, in my groggy state, "When did we get a herd of very tiny horses?" It takes a few minutes for me to realize that we haven't, in fact, joined an organization of genetically mutated animal lovers and instead the kittens are chasing each other from one end of the house to the other and back again.

I have never seen two more patient animals and neither of the girls has been intentionally scratched or bitten by them yet. At least a dozen times in the past week, I have come into the room to find The Caterpillar carrying one of them by its leg or head, it lying in her grasp, limply, playing possum. I generally freak out, yell at The Caterpillar to PUT THE KITTY DOWN!, which she does by unceremoniously dropping it in whatever position she happened to be holding it. Then I sit her down and scold her, telling her if she doesn't want to get bit or scratched, she'd better treat the kitties nicely... all while the kitten is snuggling back up to her, purring, and trying to climb into her lap.

They basically respond to The Dormouse's mauling and The Caterpillar's hits pats with an attitude that says, "Eh. All in a day." It's nice, this knowing we have patient pets the might not scratch my children's eyes out as soon as look at them, but on the other hand, The Caterpillar will now respond to the question, "What does a kitty say?" with "Meow." Which is not nearly as funny as how The Dormouse used to answer that question at the same age:

"What does a doggy say?"


"What does a cow say?"


"What does a kitty say?"