We had named her before we even met her. We knew we wanted a kitten and we knew we would name her God of Thunder. The idea that a cute kitten would walk around any corner of the house to the heavy beat of the Kiss song of the same name was too adorable not to realize. We rescued her when she was a mere 6 weeks old after she won us over by being the only kitten in the litter who physically walked over to meet us. Not only walked over, but actually hopped over a retaining wall that separated our yard from the neighbors. Now, the God of Thunder has blossomed into a healthy 13 year-old tabby, who is extremely ornery, has an aversion to kids and oddly loves dates. But the first day, that’s the day I will always remember, a day that God of Thunder showed me the havoc one little kitten could wreak.
It was a warm day in August. We shared a duplex with some of our best friends next door, who we still referred to as roommates since we were around each other so often. I was the only roommate who was not working, a trend that continued for many years (the present not excluded) so I volunteered to take care of the little bundle of fur that was sleeping in one of the bedrooms in our 6-room house. You see, she had been neutered that morning at the shelter and her staples were still in, She was sleeping off the anesthesia on my roommate’s bed and all I had to do was keep his door closed, check in on her every 10 minutes or so and, when she woke up, show her to her food, water, litter box, etc. Easy right?
The first three check-ins went smoothly enough. “Kitten in the same spot? Check. Sleeping soundly? Check.” So, you’ll understand my surprise when upon the 4th check-in, the kitten, God of Thunder, was completely gone. Gone, gone. GONE! GONE!? Gone. G-O-N-E. I looked high. I looked low. I looked in the closet. I looked under the bed. I checked the walls for holes. I looked in the hamper. I looked in every drawer in the dresser. I looked in every package, box and bag in the vicinity. This itty, bitty, little grey-striped cotton ball was in the wind. I had ONE job. And I blew it.
I called everyone: all 3 roommates, the shelter to ask if there were any hiding spots I should look in, the police! OK, not the police, but I THOUGHT about it! Everyone said to just keep looking. So I went back into the room and I tore that place apart. I flipped the bed over, I emptied drawers, I took apart bedside table, I even went outside the room ad for a half of an hour, I knocked on the wall with my ear pressed against it like I was looking for a wooden stud to hang a painting. And after I completely destroyed the room, I gave up in disgrace. I slumped to the floor and I was completely at a loss as to what to do or who to call next. I was out of options and God of Thunder was nowhere to be found.
As I sat amongst the debris and contemplated my options, I heard a rustle. I looked around but I could NOT locate the creator of said sound. But it was definitely close. I poked my head around the pile of clothes in front of me and that’s when I saw it: the tiniest little hole in the mesh on the bottom of the box spring. And from that hole a teeny, tiny head emerged. It was God of Thunder. She had been INSIDE the box spring the entire time! My relief replaced my fury, my amusement replaced my desperation. And from that afternoon forth, I kept her locked in a cage, which was cemented in a steel vault. OK, so I didn’t do that. But that’s what I wanted to do. Cause I never wanted to lose this precious little imp ever again.
God of Thunder now resides in a modest two-bedroom house with enough food to fill her and enough annoyance from six-year-old boy to keep her on her toes. And every box spring we own has been steel reinforced.