I took the kittens their morning essentials of strained chicken--a heaping teaspoon each-- and fresh water, replenished kibble, let them out of the cage. I then fed Pebbles who began the usual loud announcements about starving and neglected horses as soon as I slid open the dining room door.
Livestock attended, house cats polishing their bowls, I made my coffee.
When I went back to the hay barn an hour later, the kittens were playing on top of a stack of bales, but rushed to the edge to greet me. Sally over-balanced, landed on the 4-wheeler seat and tumbled to the barn floor.
I had to assure her that "Ididn't do it," before she was ready to be friends again.
Sally, making conversation.
What you don't see here is Sally's tiny claws kneading through my jeans.
Can you see why I brought them home?
Those pointy faces and big ears suggest Siamese genes in the lineage.
[Sally on the left, Sadie on the right.]
Rough and tumble play is tiring when you're a mere kitten.
"If you would stand right there I could pounce on your head!"
"I think I love you."
Sally watches through sleepy slitted eyes.
"Are you really leaving?"
I wonder how many days before they follow me down the path from barn to house?