The kids gave them names: SULTAN and LILAC.
The kittens were not bothering me. In the morning,when I was the first one to be down in the living area, they kind of followed me. While I cooked, they wanted to learn cooking: sometimes they liked to jump near the stove in order to have a peek at what was that yummy smell, other times, they both just sat behind me as if they were jotting down notes-or in this case if they are like my son(anti-jotting down notes), they were just learning. I had made peace with them. It was kind of an unspoken contract between me and Lilac and Sultan.They will stay away from me and I will stay away from their whiskers(I am so disgusted by their whiskers.I have suggested my kids to trim it,but “No mumma!).
One pleasant day, I was supervising my youngest heir while she was eating her breakfast.I was surfing thru Watsapp, admiring my ability to multitask (some people suck at it, I almost missed a flight because an employee at Dunkin Donuts was not familiar with it) when suddenly, something grabbed my back.
I couldn’t tell what it was.I was screaming and jumping.The foe had attacked me from behind, coward!
Sultan’s claws were embedded near my shoulder. I could feel the piercing pain. I kept on screaming. My daughters were puzzled. They didn’t know to scream or to cry. I screamed more and finally he let go off my back. I ran upstairs like a child to my husband. I was crying like a little girl who had faced a ferocious wild animal.It was horrible.
I survived and now I have no true love for them, at all (By the way,my true love is only for my kids, sorry hubby). In fact, I have named Sultan “Evil”.
On the other hand, my son showed no sympathy towards Evil’s attack. He laughed!
I feel like I have the right to be scared of those kittens.Yes, I know they are fun to watch, but, that’s it..they watch me and I watch them.
They started it…