Canela and Mingau, our four month old kittens, have been with us for exactly one month. In honor of that anniversary, I’m sharing a Simon’s Cat video. If you’ve known a cat, in any capacity, you should go to youtube and watch them all.

The kittens have adjusted well. Mingau has stopped peeing in the bathroom sink and Canela has stopped peeing on my husband. I told my husband to take it as a compliment, because cats are quite finicky about where they go. That thought wasn’t enough to stop the stream of Portuguese curse words issuing from the shower.

The kitties’ daily routine goes something like this…
Run to greet Daddy emerging from bedroom.
Get stepped on by Daddy as he tries to walk to kitchen.
Eat.
Drink.
Play.
Play in Mommy’s lap while she’s trying to eat breakfast.
Scratch Mommy while playing.
Play.
Get accidentally shut inside the pantry.
Chew on shoe laces.
Knock folded laundry to floor.
Chew on folded laundry.
Eat.
Sleep.
Play.
Get stepped on by Mommy while she’s hanging laundry.
Play.
Sleep.

The routine was interrupted last night by a trip to the vet for their second round of shots. We got them into the carrier and car with no trouble. After a couple of blocks, I commented to my husband, “Wow, they travel so well. They don’t make a sound.”

As a life long pet owner, I really should have known better than to jinx it. Within seconds, Mingau let out the first in a series of long, plaintive meows that continued until we got to the vet. He was not a happy camper.

I took the cats to check in while my husband parked the car. I waited a grand total of ten seconds to see a vet. If the human doctors in Vitoria are as efficient as the animal doctors, this may just be the perfect city.

In the exam room, Canela walked right out of carrier and got her shot without any fuss. Mingau, however, had figured out something bad was going to happen once out of the carrier and had retreated to the furthest corner. When the vet reached into grab him, he let out the loudest and most pitiful wail. Despite his visible terror, he never let out even tiniest growl. Mingau really is a sweetheart. A complete pansy, but a sweetheart.

His human parents might be to blame. We named them the Portuguese equivalent of Cinnamon and Oats. Or at least that was my intention. In further discussion, my husband began listing all the kinds of “mingau” you can have, oats, corn, cassava. “Wait,” I said, “so a better translation is mush? Corn mush? Oat mush? We named our cat Mush?”

So in his defense, it’s probably hard to have the heart of a lion when your name is Mush. But with Mingau curled in my lap as I write this, I think I prefer my cats a little mushy.