This is Amos and Andy, except Amos doesn’t live here any more. I am ahead of myself. Let’s go back about eight years to 2005.
“Did you know that there are two very little kittens in my shop? I haven’t seen a mama cat around either,” my husband said casually.
“Kittens? Where, how long have they been there? What have they been eating? Are they okay?” I had a dozen questions and Mike‘s head was spinning.
“Just go out to the shop and see if they will come to you. They run from me. They are wild, you know.” I knew about wild cats. I’ve tried to tame a few over the years, unsuccessfully. If a newborn kitten isn’t held by a human several times before he is six weeks old, he will never be domesticated. I was afraid my window of opportunity was fast closing.
The two little boy kittens were so starved, yet they did not trust me and would not come out from behind a box of stored Christmas decorations. I used a soft voice and called to them. Finally, I went back to the house and opened a can of cream. I diluted the cream with a little warm water and set two bowls close to the box. I left the shop, but peeked around the corner to see if they would drink the cream.
My two kitties lapped up the cream and gradually graduated to solid foods. I would place their food bowls a little closer to the house every day. It took two weeks to get them out of the shop – the only home they had ever known and the last place they had seen their furry mother alive. They looked for her return daily. I came to the conclusion that she had gotten hit by a passing car while out foraging for food.
By the time the kittens were two months old, I had gotten them halfway between the shop and the house at feeding time. They would play together as I watched, but would keep an eye on me. If I made advances toward them, they fled back to the shop where they slept at night.
It was around dusk one evening in early summer, I was sitting on the ground near the kittens when their play-fighting landed Amos in my lap. He freaked out and flipped twice before escaping my lap. I sat as still as a statue. Amos was curious as he reached out and touched my bare leg with his paw. I made no move. He decided I was no danger and began to explore me carefully, touching my face, playing with my hair and finally, rubbing his head against my cheek.
The soft down of Amos’s kitty fur smelled so sweet. He exhausted himself playing with me as Andy watched from a distance. I could tell that Andy wanted to be brave and explore me, but he just couldn’t muster the courage. Amos, now tired, allowed me to hold him in my hand. As I stroked his soft belly, he left out a big sigh and closed his tiny eyes. He had found his new mama and was content. Andy decided he did not want to be left out. Hesitantly, Andy joined his brother, insisting upon lying next to him. It was a perfect, beautiful moment between me and my two adopted sons. I had gained their trust completely.
Born wild, the kittens would play together and with me indoors during the day, but when night came, they wanted out. Mike fashioned them a house under the porch out of a heavy plastic bin. The bin was turned upside down and had a section removed for coming and going. It had plush carpet for a floor and warm blankets to lie upon. And so, the brothers began their life journey with me.
Be sure and return to learn more about these sweet animals and why Amos doesn’t live here any more.