Spitak and the Q-tip

The kitten came home with my younger daughter on a cold fall evening. He was about six months old and had been dumped out on a farm in a rural area. The farm owners already had their share of animals and he was looking for a home. He was a strange looking creature and very large for his age. My older daughter immediately asked what kind of cat he was. "He is a Stray Pain In The Ass Cat, kind of cat", I replied. Cat became Kitteh and Spitak had a name. Of course, once they have a name, they have a home. "Mommy, can we keep him?" really is not a question. To this date Spitak can not meow. He does make some strange birdlike noises and purrs well. He also does not seem to know how to jump. He finds ways to climb up to where he wants. Unfortunately if someone forgets to close the kitchen trash lid he can not join his buddies in bird watching out the kitchen window. The trash can is his ladder. Also, unfortunately for him, he has a rather long tail. He spends much of his time trying to conquer this alien life form that waves in front of him. Someday perhaps he will realize that it is attached to him........or not.

The Q-tip is not really a Q-tip but a generic store brand cotton swab. One of many bought in bulk, used for makeup removal by daughters that never manage to find their way inside the bathroom trash. They lurk, hidden under the cabinet awaiting their chance for chaos.

Spitak eyes the Q-tip, summing up its potential for destruction. He warily reaches out one paw and then withdraws it. His head cocks to the side, it has not attacked. The paw reaches out again to poke at this potential opponent. He swipes, the Q-tip spins and bounces off of the toilet. The kitten rolls and bounces off of the tub. Tail lashes, eyes dart, fur on end he crouches, awaiting the Q-tips next move. It does not move. Perplexed, he re-positions himself to asses the threat. Again the paw reaches out and retracts. He has summoned his courage and now there is no retreat. He smacks the Q-tip with all his might. The Q-tip flies into the air, the kitten bounds into the air, the Q-tip lands precisely on the top of his head then bounces off to roll under the door. The kitten, well I saw a flash of grey and a small puff of fur and a magically disappearing animal. I reach under the door grabbing the offending Q-tip and deposit it in the trash. No worries dear Spitak, there will be more worthy opponents in this house. Minutes later I find him, in the hall, delicately washing his paw. He must not let on that the evil Q-tip has won the battle. He looks up at me and gives me his birdlike chip as if to say, "I am here to protect you from tails and Q-tips". Yes, he has found a home.