After Jasmine died I didn’t want another cat. My heart was broken and I really had no interest. Thanksgiving weekend in 2007 Greg convinced me to go to the shelter and just look. What I saw was a tiny, mouse grey kitten all alone in a cage. They took her out an handed her to me. She was brought in as a stray and they estimated her to be about 7 weeks old. Although a little timid and frightened, she seemed to be a nice kitten.
Furball was good with kittens and he seemed to like having company again. Watching her play she looked like a little field mouse. That little kitten turned out to be hell on four little paws. She was always beating on Furball until he smacked her hard enough to send her tumbling across the floor. She was put in her place and was much more mellow with him. We’d try to play with her and she’d viciously attack us with biting, clawing and growling. After only two days she’d worn out her welcome. If the shelter was still open the miserable kitten would have gone back that night. I don’t remember what Greg was doing, but it has nothing to do with Mouse. She ran over and tore into his arm. As as reaction he pulled back and smacked her (probably harder than he should have). She got up, shook her head and suddenly became a very nice kitten. Attacking people stopped. She got very cuddly and lovable. She’d sit in you lap and sleep. She was still hell on paws. We’d catch her sitting on top of the living room curtain rods and walking across clothes on hangers in the closet. Mouse was going to be an interesting kitten to have around.