Deborah Lipp

I got a kitten.

Okay, so the Gang of Two is now a Gang of One. Mingo has run off. I still hope he returns, but it’s been three bleak months of Mingolessness. Fanty is lonely. I’m lonely. Arthur has moved in with his dad, and a single woman with just one cat, who happens to be an annoying and no-fun cat, is just not working for me.

So on Saturday Fanty had her annual checkup, and there was a big crate o’ kittens. Six in total, four of whom were solid black. Solid black=very appealing to Witches, but I finally got smart and chose based on personality rather than looks. My little one-eye is funny looking but the only calm, sweet, social one in the bunch, the only one who wanted to cuddle. As Roberta said, “In a crate of kittens, the one-eyed kitten is king.”

We’ve gone around a lot with names, but have pretty much settled on Callisto. The one-eyed badass names were Summer (for Scott Summers, and also a cute name), Callisto (a one-eyed X-Man), Lefty, Ruby Heart (some anime pirate thingy), and Elle Driver (Kill Bill). I also considered naming her after Barbara Boggs Sigmund. You have to admit, Sigmund is a cute name. Other names are Teacup (for her size) or Snowshoes (for her insanely large feet). But like I said, I think Callisto will stick.

She has the sneezles, so she is on liquid antibiotics. Today was kind of a breakthrough in human-kitty bonding, as it was the first time I shot the liquid medicine down her throat and then she stayed in my lap afterward. Previously she’d run the fuck away (understandably) the minute I let her go. It made me unreasonably happy this morning that she didn’t run away.