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Nov. 13th, 2001 09:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetStupid TV reception. Couldn't watch "Angel," and both J. and I were in one of our work-induced "now I'm feeling zombified" sort of phases and counting on mindless dark-avenger-y entertainment. We ended up renting "Shrek" instead.
Not a dark avenger, necessarily, but it worked out okay.
So... Once we had an orange kitten. It was a sibling to our black kitten, still called "Kitten" though she is 2 now (but still smaller than your average cat). Together they were a fine October color scheme. We had him for all of two days. He was a complete bastard. He bullied or ignored his sister, bit or hid from us, crapped on the couch, and made life stressful. Reluctantly, feeling evil and worthless, we took him back to the cool no-kill shelter in Middletown, RI whence he had come. They did not treat us like horrible monsters and even let us adopt our Big Kitty (we have this problem with names) that very day. The two cats hit it off well, and the kitten we kept showed immediate changes for the better, coming out of her shell, as they say, though not of course in any literal sense. It all worked out for us, though sometimes I wonder how it ended up for that orange kitten. It would have made someone a good outdoor cat, I think.
J. works at a historic house museum set up by a woman 20-some years ago to commemorate her late husband's wealthy family (and, it seems from mounting evidence, to keep their stuff out of the hands of their adopted daughters). Well, yesterday J. learned that the couple had in fact adopted a large set of siblings, including the aforementioned daughters we already knew about, but eventually "sent the boys back" because they were unruly, at least according to the standards of parents themselves raised by Victorian Old Money. I have no idea where the lads ended up, or if they ever had contact with their sisters again, or how old anyone was at this point. But however you look at it, they broke up the family of children like a litter of domesticated animals.
Such parenting helps explain, I suppose, the Bitterness Incarnate that is the one sister J. and her museum co-workers have to deal with from time to time.
Not a dark avenger, necessarily, but it worked out okay.
So... Once we had an orange kitten. It was a sibling to our black kitten, still called "Kitten" though she is 2 now (but still smaller than your average cat). Together they were a fine October color scheme. We had him for all of two days. He was a complete bastard. He bullied or ignored his sister, bit or hid from us, crapped on the couch, and made life stressful. Reluctantly, feeling evil and worthless, we took him back to the cool no-kill shelter in Middletown, RI whence he had come. They did not treat us like horrible monsters and even let us adopt our Big Kitty (we have this problem with names) that very day. The two cats hit it off well, and the kitten we kept showed immediate changes for the better, coming out of her shell, as they say, though not of course in any literal sense. It all worked out for us, though sometimes I wonder how it ended up for that orange kitten. It would have made someone a good outdoor cat, I think.
J. works at a historic house museum set up by a woman 20-some years ago to commemorate her late husband's wealthy family (and, it seems from mounting evidence, to keep their stuff out of the hands of their adopted daughters). Well, yesterday J. learned that the couple had in fact adopted a large set of siblings, including the aforementioned daughters we already knew about, but eventually "sent the boys back" because they were unruly, at least according to the standards of parents themselves raised by Victorian Old Money. I have no idea where the lads ended up, or if they ever had contact with their sisters again, or how old anyone was at this point. But however you look at it, they broke up the family of children like a litter of domesticated animals.
Such parenting helps explain, I suppose, the Bitterness Incarnate that is the one sister J. and her museum co-workers have to deal with from time to time.
