I’ve been seeing life through kitten eyes

Note: I wrote this column when my cats, Pumba and Powder, were tiny kittens. Now they are 14 years old.

Lately I’ve been seeing life through kitten’s eyes.
While cats of all ages are known for their curiosity, I’ve noticed through watching my kittens, Pumba and Powder, that those first months of life are full of endlessly fascinating experiences.
Each of my potted plants is a new jungle to explore and hide in while hoping to ambush the other and each level of chair or table that they find themselves able to climb is a new conquest.
There are things that are scary … like those birds at the feeder that fill grown cats with a compulsion to attack. To a small kitten these sparrows and tufted titmice are huge eagles swooping down at them. Powder was sitting on the window sill when a bird came soaring in for a landing at the feeder outside the window. Powder hasn’t quite figured out that things can’t come through the window pain, so when he saw those birds coming toward him, he jumped down from the window sill and scurried into the other room sliding to a stop against the far wall.
The sound of the vacuum cleaner also causes little feet to scurry so fast that they are running in place as they slip and slide on the linoleum. Blow dryers too, are a disturbance, but not quite so urgent. They glance with worried looks at the source of the noise and cautiously back away, eyes wide. And if I blow my nose it sounds to them like a hiss from a very large cat, so they both take off running in the other direction...
Some experiences probably seem like brushes with death to a kitten. Like that little slip of the foot Pumba made when walking around the toilet seat, then caught himself and hung two inches from the water below.
But you’d never know it when he is off jumping on Powder’s tail the next moment. No dwelling on bad memories for a kitten. There is too much to see! Too much to do! Like whenever I come home from work and stand behind my wicker dressing screen to change and hang my discarded clothes over the top. Pumba quickly climbs the screen, grabs my bra and runs through the house with it. It was fun the first time he did it, so now he does it habitually, every evening.
I’ve determined that the game “Follow the Leader” was not an idea originated by human beings. The kittens will continuously follow each other, taking the same path over and over, round and round.
Kitten thoughts: First we jump on the stereo, then we climb in the plant, then spread some potting soil on the floor and run across the room. Don’t forget to step on Mom’s face as you cross over the couch. There is a penalty if you don’t. Now let’s do it over again … back to the stereo, then the plant …
And as many who own cats know, a kitten will feel an unexplainable need to be in a different room all of the sudden. Who knows what those little brains are thinking when those eyes begin to dart around the room wildly before a kitten jumps up and races into another room, skids to a stop a the wall, scrambles his little claws against the floor and takes off in yet another direction.
Kitten thoughts: Whoops, I think I’m missing something that is going on in there!”
or “I just realized I’m bored in here. I need a change and fast!
Are they being chased by ghosts? Are they practicing their hunting skills for sneaking up and suddenly dashing for the attack? Are they getting back to their roots and imagining themselves to be large powerful Cheetahs sprinting at a speed of 60 mph across the plains of Africa?
But they aren’t huge Cheetahs. They aren’t even grown cats. They are tiny fluffballs with tails and claws, which makes this activity particularly endearing to me. I could watch them run for hours with their little ears held back to streamline their bodies and reduce the windforce from traveling at such speeds, or at least the speeds at which they think they are running.
And then there’s that perpetual nursing instinct that Pumba has yet to shake.
I can see his little mind working as he stops playing with Powder, looks me straight in the ear and starts walking determinedly toward me.
Kitten thoughts: I miss my mommy, I miss my mommy! Why did you take me away from my mommy at the shelter. Mommy gave me milk too. I want milk, I miss milk, I think there may be some milk in that earlobe up there. Okay, you’re my mommy now, roll over and give me an earlobe.
Because I have a particular sensitivity about the idea of youngsters losing their mommies, I decided to go ahead and let him suck on my earlobe for comfort. Each night, after I lie down, he perches on my shoulder and sucks on my earlobe until he is consumed with sleepiness, then he lets out a long moan and passes out with his nose pink and wet from the workout. BBBut if I lift my head or move in any fashion, he immediately wakes, grabs onto that earlobe and starts sucking again. I’m not sure if he’ll ever realize there is no milk to be had in that earlobe.
But life is full of adventures yet to come, like paper bags to hide in and closets to explore, or analyzing the moth that strayed in through the window.
Kitten thoughts: Ooooh, look at the thing flittering around -- oops, missed ---- ah, got him in my claws, now lets try tasting this new delicacy …. Hmmm, kinda fuzzy.