I'm singing out this poem all the way back home
Tonight being Kittening Day Observed, Hestia was miffed that I would not let her at my olive-and-pepper-tinned sardines, but for the actual twelfth anniversary of Kittening Day, she was fed on lox. A dozen years she has been in our lives, the cat of legend. Her brother grows into irises. I still remember the soft musk under his ears. She lay warm and purring on my feet all afternoon.



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Much love to Hestia and to the irises of Autolycus. And to you!
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Did I ever tell you the story of that batch of kittens? The MSPCA had found a cat-hoarding house, with several black-coated queens and many, many black-coated kittens. The rescuers could not figure out which kittens belonged to which mother and so distributed them randomly. Neither the dams nor babies seemed to mind. We then got to foster one of these mamas and the mess of soot sprites (as you described them) who came with her, the future Hestia and Autolycus among them. So I know that the two of them were color-matching littermates and de facto siblings, and I'm pretty sure, considering their birth circumstances, that they were biologically related somehow--if not as siblings, then as cousins, perhaps multiple times over.
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