This is the song we sing in our home when our kitten
s have done something we would rather they hadn’t. It’s a melancholy, yet lighthearted tune, the sort of song
cowboys would sing 'round the campfire
in the Old West if they had kittens like ours. There’s only that one line, and I doubt there will ever be any more. So I guess it's not really a song. Maybe I should call it a languid jingle
. We vary the tempo and draw out different notes; sometimes we get a little funky
and break it down old style. We sing it almost every day.
Eeeehhhh-vree-ware is kitten trouble
Kitten trouble is really just about everywhere. In the kitchen, our sponges and vegetable scrubber are kept in one of those baskets designed for putting the tops of baby bottles in a dishwasher, as Lulu (19 months old, black with subtle gray stripes, found at a gas station, named after Lucifer) repeatedly knocks sponges to the floor and then Moe (9 months old, white and black, found by a coworker during a particularly violent rainstorm that his siblings and mother did not survive) bats them around. When we don’t put the sponge in the basket, we find it on the floor in the closet.
We hang our rolls of paper towels backwards; otherwise, the kittens would systematically unravel them. We have to get thumbtacks for the bulletin board in the kitchen because the kittens like to jump on the counter to pull the push pins out, knock them to the ground, and chase them around. Presently, all our recipes are stuck to the very top of the bulletin board, and sometimes we step on abandoned push pins.
Ev’ry ev’ry ev’ry ev’ry eehh-vryware is kit’n trubble
The bottom shelf of the entertainment center is barren because kittens kept knocking the books to the floor. The bowl with the remotes (both cracked) is on an upper shelf because kittens kept knocking it off the coffee table. Hey, where’s the dog bowl? It’s not next to the water bowl. Maybe it’s under the couch. Maybe it’s over in the corner. Asking the kittens is completely futile, so we sing.
Everywhere is ki----tten trouble
One morning a few months ago I was two hours late to work. I had put my glasses on a table and left the room; of course, when I came back, they were gone. I looked everywhere. I looked everywhere again. I woke David up: “I can’t find my glasses. I need you to move the fridge.” It turned out that they were under the stove. Now I’m much more careful when I take off my glasses.
Then there’s the time we were both awoken in the wee hours of the night by a strange banging on the wall of the bedroom. I went out to inspect and found Moe standing on the back of the couch, batting a large painting and chasing it as it moved. bam … swish … bam … swish I watched him until he got bored and ran away. Then I went back to bed.
everywhere is kittin trubble
Do you enter your home stealthily, with your foot blocking the narrow opening and shouting "No! No! No!"? It just recently occurred to me that most people just open their doors as widely as they want and walk right into their homes. These people don’t have kittens waiting to escape. It’s actually just Lulu who really wants to get out, and she’s successfully darted by on several occasions. Moe’s usually just hanging out, watching. He once ran out but then turned around and ran back in right away. When we need to keep the door open to bring in groceries or laundry, we put the kittens in jail. Jail is a black wire cage designed for holding small dogs, and it’s the perfect size for two little kittens. Kittens also go to jail when there’s vacuuming going on or when there’s a meal being served that they will be unable to resist. We tried putting kittens in jail when they had done something bad, but that tough love/scared straight thing doesn’t work with them. They’re just trouble.
Everywhere is kitten truuuhhhh-bul...