"Check For Kittens Before Sitting"

That was the note I found in my brother's block-letter printing on the seat of the recliner when I came home yesterday. Now that the kittens pretty much have the run of the house (except my brother's room and bathroom which are Bartleby's refuge and my room and bathroom which are my refuge) they are managing to squeeze themselves into all sorts of awkward places. There are enough spaces and hidden openings in the workings of the recliner that a kitten could easily climb up inside and get squished if the occupant were to extend the back out.

So I attempt to count them all before doing anything. Which is not always easy because the kids have decided to make a nest of their own, away from mama, in the linen closet at the end of the hall in front of which they had found Mom's giant stuffed apron-and-cap-wearing granny mouse that they used as a surrogate their first night free. Even Little Gray Mama can't find them there. This morning she was crying right outside my door (which is adjacent to the linen closet). We went looking for them throughout the house only to find them, one by one, squeezing out from under the closet door and happily stumbling down the hall.

When I go home now, I immediately change into raggedy pants, T-shirt and old shoes so the kittens can climb to their hearts' content. And they do, swarming me wherever I go. I fixed a salad last night, standing in the kitchen with one kitten wrapped around my knee and another on my shoe trying to figure out how to get past my ankle.

Last night I spent most of the evening in the recliner not reclining trying to read a book while kittens swarmed my legs and the chair from every possible direction. I had to keep stopping to pry them off me and the chair and plop them back down on the rug where they would immediately try again. I confess that most of the time I was giggling like a five-year-old. My only respites were when LGM decided to nurse them after which they all (including mama) feel asleep in a pile wherever that happened to be.

For the record, LGM is not shy and is happy to nurse anywhere the kids are together and hungry. Last night it was on the kitchen tile and the living room rug by my chair. This morning it was right outside my bedroom door after we tracked them all down. She seems to prefer to lie on her right--that is, the injured--side, which may explain why she didn't want to nurse the first day after the fight. She did try lying on her left one time but the last kitten to the party ended up accidentally pawing the wound which hurt so much she stopped in mid-feed, got up and walked away.