Snowy and the Seven Kittens

“Mom, why is Snowy getting so fat?” DeDe asked, pointing to the white short-haired cat with emerald eyes, meowing her way into the kitchen in search of dinner.
 

Snowy came to live with the family when just 9 weeks old, after Mom and Dad agreed, last year, to let the kids pick a kitten from their next-door neighbor’s cat’s litter.
 

Snowy ruffled her arched back around Mom’s ankles as Mom busied herself with the final touches of Friday night’s dinner: salmon cakes with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes and peas, while DeDe set the table. Her slender fingers placing the silverware on folded paper napkins, just so. The savory smell of the patties frying made DeDe’s mouth water.
 

After flipping the salmon cakes over, Mom looked up from her electric skillet and smiled with tired, hazel eyes at DeDe, her eleven-year-old, second daughter of four and third child of seven. DeDe had from the time she was little, loved animals.  This love of animals stood to be one of the few things DeDe and her Mom had in common but it was enough to sustain a connection between them.
 

“Snowy is going to have babies soon,” Mom replied.
 

“Babies? When?” DeDe asked, brushing the soft brown curls from her face after bending over to give Snowy a scratch behind the ears.
 

Glancing toward the cat, Mom said: “Well, from the size of her belly, I would guess pretty soon.”
 

“Like this weekend?” DeDe wondered.
 

“Maybe. I’ve noticed she has been going into the basement crawlspace for the last few days.  I think she is looking for a place to give birth,” Mom said.
 

Looking at Snowy and imagining the babies in her belly, DeDe replied: “But it is so dark and dirty in there, Mom. That’s not a good place for babies.”
 

“Mommas always know the perfect place to have their babies,” Mom said, and she would know.  She spent ample time during her childhood on her grandma and grandpa’s dairy farm where she saw any number of animals being born, including her favorites, the barn cats.
 

“Could we at least put an old blanket down for her?”  DeDe asked.  “I don’t want the babies to get dirty.”
 

“Sure, I’ll look for one after dinner.  Now go wash up and tell your brothers and sisters to do the same. Dad will be home soon.”
 

DeDe had never seen anything born, unless you count the millions of praying mantis babies that took over the kitchen a few years back, having hatched out of the cocoon her older brother placed in a jar and set on the counter next to the cookbooks.
 

After helping clear the dinner table and loading the dishwasher, DeDe followed her mom to the storage closet.  From the top shelf, Mom pulled down an old moth-bitten royal blue wool blanket with satin edging that had come loose in several places, giving the appearance of tattered cloak once worn by a forgotten princess from a faraway land. 
 

Handing the blanket to DeDe Mom said, “Here, you can use this.”
 

Taking the blanket, and feeling its smooth texture, DeDe said: “Let’s get a box, too. Snowy likes boxes.” Mom smiled.

They found an empty cardboard box with low sides next to Dad’s workbench in the basement; one that had previously held electronic components Dad had ordered. Dad was always tinkering at his workbench, soldering this, wiring that. DeDe lost interest in his hobby years ago when, after being told not to, she picked up his hot soldering iron by the wrong end. Her blisters took days to heal.
 

DeDe dusted out the box, nestled the blanket in the bottom, and placed the box inside the gray cinder block opening to the crawlspace, which stood about two feet above the cement floor, next to the slatted stairway. Barely any light penetrated this dank and dusty place; a place where all kinds of disgusting creepy crawlies lived. DeDe was sure of it.
 

Mom suggested placing the box in the corner a few feet from the opening. To accomplish this task, DeDe had to hoist herself up and through the three-foot-by-three-foot opening, being careful not to scrape her shins on the rough cinder blocks. She felt as if she were crawling into a hidden cave where one ought not go.
 

Once inside, DeDe took a deep breath, smelling the dirt beneath her, praying she wouldn’t run into any spiders or worse. Mom pointed Dad's flashlight into the corner where she had suggested placing the box, the beam illuminating the underbelly of the house, throwing eerie shadows against the wall.
 

The crawlspace was just high enough for DeDe to stand up bent over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. She moved slowly towards the corner dragging the box behind her, being careful not to bump her head on the support beams overhead. She felt the rough stone and dirt flooring below her slippered-feet wondering if she was squishing any bugs under her 80-pound weight.  The thought of it made her skin crawl.
 

Once there, DeDe placed the box in the corner, smoothing the blanket’s edges to fit every inch of the rectangle shape. “Snowy will like this,” she thought, admiring her handiwork.

The next morning, Snowy didn’t show up for breakfast, so DeDe went looking for her. She called for her here and there throughout the house with no luck. None of her brothers and sisters had seen her either. DeDe couldn’t ask Mom because she had gone grocery shopping nor Dad because he was next door helping the neighbor with his car.
 

“The basement,” DeDe thought, and raced down the stairs to peak in the crawlspace. She grabbed Dad’s flashlight and aimed the beam into the corner.  She found Snowy nestled within the ragged blanket inside the box she had left for her.
 

Snowy’s green eyes caught the light and blinked. Under her front paw, DeDe could see a tiny kitten, still wet from birth, wiggling towards a nipple.
 

DeDe’s heart raced.  She turned quickly and ran up the stairs calling out, “Snowy’s having her babies! Come quick!”
 

Her four younger brothers and sisters came scrambling down two flights of stairs to the foyer.

“She’s in the crawlspace,” DeDe said pointing toward the basement door.
 

“We have to go quietly or we might scare her away,” DeDe instructed. “Follow me.”

DeDe lead her siblings down the stairs and to the crawlspace opening, shining the light into the corner.  Her brothers and sisters pressed their heads into the opening, jostling each other for a look.
 

“It’s so dark. Why did she go in there?” her younger sister asked.
 

“Because mommas always know the perfect place to have their babies,” DeDe said.
 

All the unexpected attention caused Snowy to become restless. DeDe thought it would be best to leave her be and, after one more good look each, DeDe ushered her siblings up the stairs, closing the basement door quietly behind them.
 

Later, that day, after all the kittens had been born, Mom sent DeDe back into the crawl space to retrieve the box with its precious cargo. Mom said it would be better to have Snowy closer by to keep an eye on her and the kittens.
 

DeDe gave no thought this time to the creepy crawlies as she hoisted herself up and into the crawlspace.  She made her way to the corner, and carefully dragged the box behind her back to the opening where Mom slowly lifted it out, placing it on the floor next to Dad’s workbench.
 

By now, the whole family (except Dad who was at the neighbor’s again) had gathered around the box. Snowy laid on her side, eyes half closed, breathing deeply, while a gaggle of babies suckled her belly. DeDe counted the kittens out loud: "1,2,3,4,5,6,7."
 

“Seven! Snowy had seven kittens, one for each of us kids!” DeDe cried.
 

“Well, isn’t that something,” Mom said.
 

In quick succession, each sibling called dibs on their kitten of choice, although it was hard to tell some of them apart.  DeDe picked the one different from the rest: a black, gray, and brown stripped beauty with one white forepaw.  She decided to call him ‘Jet’ because he moved so fast.
 

Over the next few weeks, the kids enjoyed playing with Snowy’s seven kittens every chance they got.  Jet lived up to his name, out running, out wrestling, outwitting his siblings at every turn.  DeDe took great pride in him.
 

The kittens grew quickly and soon it was time to find them new homes.
 

Jet’s day arrived.  Giving him one last hug and kiss before placing Jet into the outstretched arms of a skinny, redheaded boy half her age, who glanced at her overtop thick glasses, while his parents looked on smiling, DeDe felt herself tremble. 
 

Saying goodbye felt awful but DeDe knew it was the right thing to do.  After all, like Dad said, “Eight cats in one house were seven cats too many.”
 

Giving the kitten one last pet atop his soft, stripped head, DeDe informed the boy, “His name is Jet.”
 

“Jet. That’s a good name,” the boy replied, as he turned to leave.
 

DeDe watched the boy, and his parents walk to their car, as tears filled her eyes. She felt her Mom’s gentle hand on her shoulder.
 

“Take good care of him,” DeDe called out.
 

“I will,” the boy called back, just before getting into the tan sedan. The engine reeved and off they went.
 

Sniffing back tears, DeDe waved as the car backed down the driveway and drove out of sight.

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Egerton Community Literary Magazine | Fall 2022