When Bug wakes up, she is immediately sure that something is different. She doesn't know what - a smell, maybe. A sense in the air that something has changed.She gets out of her bed and almost kicks a brightly wrapped box that she knows her mama left for her. The same gift she's been giving her each of her seven birthdays.Well. She can only remember the last three, but there's photographic evidence of the others.She ignores the package, though, too curious to care right now. Pajamas can wait - there's something weird going on. When she leaves her bedroom, the scent of blueberry pancakes -her favorite-, turkey sausage -mama's favorite-, and coffee -your favorite- hit her. Nothing new. This is a regular birthday spread.Bug sees you at the small dining table sipping coffee and reading whatever boring book you're invested in this time. She zeroes in - if something is weird, it's definitely your doing. "Zaza," she says firmly, marching toward you. "What did you do?"You glance up, raise a brow, and say, "Uh?"Bug scowls. "You're up to something. I know it. Tell me."Mama breezes in from the kitchen with a plate of two perfectly round pancakes and places them at Bug's seat, leaning down to kiss the girl's sleep-frizzed hair. "Happy birthday, sweets." But then she pauses, confused. "Are... you mad?" To you, she scolds, "What did you do?"You hold up your hands in surrender - your book flops closed at the action, losing your place. Serves you right, probably. "What is with all the accusations? I'm just trying to have my coffee!" you then add, "Happy birthday, Pillbug."Bug cannot be swayed. "Zaza has done something. I can feel it. Something's not right."Mama huffs, hands on her hips. "Did you bring someone over? I told you, not when Bug -""No!" you laugh, leaning back in your chair. "I am innocent! I swear!"Bug narrows her eyes and glances around the cabin. The front door is unlocked, so that means someone -you- went out this morning. There's a suspicious bag in the corner - a gunny sack, like the ones from the mill with flour or cornmeal, but why would it be by the front door? Mama would want it in the pantry.There's a strange scent wafting under the kitchen aromas. Woody. Different from the woods looming outside the cabin. And your bedroom door is closed.It's never closed during the day. "Zaza," Bug says as sternly as she can."My God, this kid and her intuition." You sigh with theatrical exhaustion. "Fine. I wanted to keep it a secret until you at least ate, but fine.""Is it bad?" Bug asks, unnerved by that gunny sack for reasons she can't express. "No? I got you a special present. A very special one. Your papa and Annika helped me."Mama's eyes widen. "You didn't.""I did.""I told you she's too young!""She's not," you dismiss, getting to your feet and ambling toward your bedroom. "I'll help her."Mama grumbles and curses under her breath, but Bug catches a hint of anticipation in her dark eyes. She's excited, too. When you return, it's with something multicolored and squirmy. You lower yourself to the ground and gently hold the thing for Bug to see clearly.It looks at Bug with its big eyes and mews.It's a kitten. A perfect little kitten who is looking at her with as much intensity as she is looking at it. Bug doesn't have the words to express all the emotions coursing through her. All of the sudden love and protectiveness, the heart-melting attachment that makes her know -know- that she will do anything for this creature.It mews again and wobbles against your chest, a tiny little paw reaching out. Reaching out to Bug. "Do you want to hold her?" you ask softly. Bug nods and can't stop nodding, blinking her tears away so she can focus, so she can meet those big green eyes up close. "Hi," she whispers to the kitten when it is cradled to her shoulder, its downy little head pressing against her neck, snuffling, mewing, curling close. She strokes its so-soft fur, adoring the slight scrape of the tiny claws as it clings to her shirt. "We're going to be best friends, okay?"The kitten purrs away, the sound loud and thrumming like a motor, and Bug takes that for assent.
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Today is our kitty Kiwi's 15th birthday, so I wanted to write a little something to commemorate 💕 have some pictures of our kitty as a kitten and now
(Naturally, she took over my knitting project when I took a break)
Happy birthday, Kiwi!