Here’s a confession: sometimes human beans can be selfish. Including this human bean.

I had hoped that we’d get to enjoy the pure, unadulterated bliss of seeing all seven Greek kittens romp together in the lobby. But, in order for that to happen, the kittens couldn’t find their forever homes during their stint in Quarantine…and, yes, a wee, wicked little part of me hoped they wouldn’t.

I’m happy to report that I did not get my selfish wish.

There might be something in the world sweeter than watching a herd of kittens tumble together, but I can’t imagine what it would be.

I recall my first introduction to this brand of bliss. I’d been working at Tabby’s Place just a few weeks when a scrawny sextet from Philadelphia came to live in our lobby. One afternoon, Jonathan paged the entire building to announce, “Please report to the lobby to play with kittens at once.” You can imagine how readily we all obliged.

And, oh, what a sweet order it was. These six mini-maniacs tumbled and tangled and rampaged with the energy of ten thousand jumping beans. We human beans only stoked their energy as we doubled over laughing, watching ten-ounce fluffballs poof up like hedgehogs and jump sideways at each other. One after the next, they’d arch into “Halloween cat” poses, taking on their siblings, unsuspecting adult cats, and random pieces of furniture. (Someone’s gotta show those chairs who’s boss, after all.) 

It’s really a very simple formula: kittens in the Tabby’s Place lobby = fiesta of slaphappiness in the first degree. More kittens = more slaphappitude.

So, really, can you blame me for wanting to see the Magnificent Seven take over the lobby?

Alas – or “hooray,” depending on how we look at it – that’s not going to happen. A stampede of adopters has been in the mood for Greek take-out. Even before lobby hijinks can ensue, six out of seven tiny sweeties will have left the building.

And this leaving-the-building business has already begun. We’re two kittens poorer – and Hermes and Titan are infinitely richer for having found their forever homes. Hera, Zeus, Ares and Aphrodite wait in the wings, ready to deliver their goofy goodness to their own new families just as soon as they’ve dispatched that durned ringworm.

In this mad rush of forever home-finding, there’s just one tower of cuteness that no adopter has scaled…Persephone.

Consider it a lesson learned: it’s not in one’s best interest to name a kitten after the goddess of the underworld.

Now, I’m not saying that Persephone is hellish. But there’s a decidedly un-heavenly tinge to her tone. Several weeks into Operation: Adore Kittens, Persephone is still a bit of a holdout. While her siblings have become venerable snuggle-bugs, Persephone still accepts petting only reluctantly. She’ll hiss as you approach, then quiet down and let you stroke her. Yet, all the while, her face is flat, expression screaming, this will be over soon. Go to your happy place. Oh, yuck, human bean cooties…

I have every confidence that our cooties big giant love for Persephone will prevail. Our foxlike little feline’s days of fear are numbered: I fully believe that you can only be adored for so long before it starts to change you. And, slowly enough, Persephone is changing.

Best of all, she’ll get to be the center of attention when she brings her own brand of slappiness to the lobby…and, at last, to a home of her own.

That’s the best thing about slaphappy kittens. Their adoptions only spread the slaphappiness – and, really, who among us doesn’t want slaphappiness to abound?

PS: Many thanks to Kelly for capturing all this cuteness on camera today.

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