This morning we said farewell to our prolonged houseguest, the black baby cat who has come to be known as Kevin. Molly, oh radical and cool neighbor of ours, came over to whisk him off to his new life as a camp kitty. I hope you sleep in many pleasant bunks and I hope also the children love you and take you on many cool adventures.
Here are some photos of my friend.
Baby cat. Kevin.
I came home this afternoon and you weren’t here to get in the way of the door when I opened it; your little legs weren’t sticking out from under it. Your food and water bowls are empty, besides the few pieces of kitty kibble strewn across the floor in the kitchen. Your toys are packed away, or lost under the couch– we will find these with fondness when we move– that little mouse with the bell, the plastic ball, the milk rings of which you are so fond. You are not stalking into this room now, yowling that I am not hanging out with you, how dare I, why would you, meow, kisses, etc.
Club Weller/Quinn– Population: 2 humans, 0 cats. Back to the beginning.
Since ending his work day, Jake had an opportunity to consort with our across-the-halls, Molly included. She reports that everyone at camp lurves zee kitty, as could be expected…but there’s one surprising outcome in this situation. Through no prompting on the part of Molly, the camp has apparently come up with a name for Kevin/Donder/Scoots/The Little Baby Cat of their own—