Last night Shasta was acting funny, hissing at her sister, Bree, and I noticed that she was skinnier. I had wondered if she was pregnant before, but she didn't have that big of a tummy. When she showed up skinnier last night, I figured she'd aborted. I wasn't too concerned, it happens. And I wasn't too thrilled that she might be pregnant in the first place. 2 barn cats is enough for this place. This morning she followed me upstairs and I noticed the curtain surrounding the old chimney was messed up and I got 'that feeling' and pushed it aside and Shasta jumped in there and cuddled up to two fat little balls of fur. Yep. Kittens. And she loves them. As you can see:
Two kittens isn't so bad. I'm not sure what I think of her having them in the house. I must have locked her inside yesterday when I went to town. My mind was totally elsewhere yesterday. The fact that she had them on an old scrap of fabric upstairs on linoleum makes me breathe a sigh of relief when I think of all the other possible places she could have chosen in this house! It may be for the best, though - now I can tame them and get them to good homes. Anyone want a kitten? Generations of fantastic mousers is in their genes.