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Back to Mystic Iland, Sweet Pea and the Azalee, page 1
At first you couldn’t tell how many there were, but
then eight  green
frightened eyes were fixed on us. Three were black (two with white
spots at their throats) and one, who had to be a girl as she looked just
like her mother (only minus the mustache), black and white. When
we realized that Sweet Pea had transferred her family to our family, we
were taken by surprise, but delighted. “We’ll keep them all,” my mother
said, “but where will we put them?”
We had recently sold our large old beach house that would have easily accommodated them all. In this much smaller house, it would be a squeeze to keep one cat, let alone four. I realized my mother couldn't be serious. "I guess my next chore," I said as I patted them, "will be trying to find someone to adopt them." "How can you say such a thing?" my mother replied. "Kittens in a litter should stay together, at least until they learn to cope. For now, they need each other." They need to get adopted while they are still kittens, I thought. But I knew from experience that my mom often did things based on her feelings -- it was part of her charm. "Sweet Pea trusted us," my mother said. "Anyway, how much room can little kittens take up?" "In a few months you would be surprised how much room little kittens can take up," I answered. "We'll find a place for them," my mother replied. "In the meantime let's put them in the laundry room. They'll be safe and warm away from the dog," she said. We carefully brought them inside, and put them in a laundry basket lined with a blanket. I put a sign up on the door, "kittens inside, no barking." I was already worried as to what we would do when they outgrew the laundry basket; the patio would be a danger zone. My mother, who seemed to read my thoughts said, "We'll worry about it later. It's only for a little while." |
But then a problem arose
out of the blue. It seemed that Sweet Pea wanted them back.
Sometimes at night we would hear her mewing outside the window by the laundry
room. We tried to adopt her too, and reunite her with  her
kittens, but she had been a feral cat too long and would not be caught.
We decided to bring the kittens out to her, one at a time, and she would
clean each one thoroughly. After she cleaned the last kitten, and
they were all back inside in their basket, she would sit on the landing
as if it was hard to leave. But eventually she would slowly descend
the steps, the moon reflecting on the lagoon and her tiny body, disappearing
into the shadows. I wondered if she went back to the Azalee, and
whether it was lonely there without her kittens. We hadn't seen Asparagus
lately, and wondered if they had parted company after Sweet Pea had her
kittens. |
| About
a week later, she stopped coming by. There was no more mewing under
the window. There was no more Sweet Pea at the door waiting to wash
her kittens. We all went to look for her, first in the Azalee, and
then in some of the places she might have gotten trapped. No luck!
Why would she desert her kittens?
While walking back on the roadside we spotted a small form some distance away. It was Sweet Pea. Our worst fears were realized. She was lying on the road where a car had hit her. We felt angry and sad. If only she had come inside, and not gone off by herself. Just a few days ago she had been caring for her four kittens. It seemed she could save them all, but not herself. We just stood there, and were joined by a neighbor who loved cats and had many of them. He tenderly took her away. Before he did, we told her she had been a really good mother and we would take care of her kittens. As we walked home we wondered if the same fate had claimed Asparagus. We remembered the sun-filled days when they both had come to supper up all those steps, enjoyed the food, then watched the 
sun set over the lagoon.
We went home quickly and right to the kittens. They were snuggled together, safe and unaware their mother was gone. But we told them we would always take care of them, a promise we made to Sweet Pea. |
| We
have moved several times, and they have moved with us. They have
outgrown a banana tree I built for them out of felt and wood, which was
their favorite. The fact is they are quite big now and all have different
personalities. They get along well together, napping and scrapping
occasionally, but always in tune with each other, grooming and sleeping
together.
Lahaina (la-hine-a) is named after a town in Hawaii; Leilani (lay-loni) after the flowers of the Island; Javier (ha-vee-air) after a neighbor from Spain; and the all black cat with the big green eyes was named Luna, because he’s as bright as a full moon in a clear night sky. Javier is still the head of the group as he was from the beginning. Leilani still resembles her mother and protects her brothers from anyone who visits the house, Lahaina is the biggest, and scares easily, and Luna makes up games with kibble and balls. Some time after we adopted the kittens, we found Asparagus living in another boat across the lagoon. She had just had her own litter of kittens. With the help of our neighbor, we were able to rescue them and find them good homes. We kept one, a gray and gold tabby who looks exactly like Asparagus. We named her (what else?) Tabby. She is now a member of our family cat clan. I think that Sweet Pea and Asparagus would be very proud of how their kittens turned out. |