Good Afternoon, everybody.

Another two weeks means another chapter. More oddness and cuteness ahead! I can hardly wait!

So, without further ado, Enjoy.

Warning: Again, blood. Sorry

Tending and Bending

So… since the mini heart attack at my shock didn't knock me out, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Marshall and Olaf popped out from behind me.

Muttering a thanks, I turn to grab the pillow from Olaf. I smother a giggle at the sight of the pillow easily spilling around my son's arms. It was a baby shower gift that never really had a use for me. Some fancy type of hypoallergenic fabric that's good for children to sleep on, but it was easily four times longer than Elijah was tall. Despite its size, the pillow easily found a place within my closet to never see the light of day.

The only thing I could think of was how lucky we were to not throw away the fluffy monstrosity as I lay it on the cleanest part of the porch. Treating Marshmallow as if he was made of glass, I moved him onto the mound of fluff. I notice that he's skinny as if all of the food he gained from us just never happen. As much as my heart clenched, I focus on taking the same care with the three little bundles as I tuck them right next to the bloodied, thin feline.

Barely looking up at my son, I take the small med-kit from Marshall. I was no paramedic, but I being a mother of two has certainly taught me a thing or two. As much as I brag about multi-tasking, I really am focused on what I need to apply to Marshmallow's wounds as I search through the kit. Snatching at what randomly comes into my view, I soon have a small pair of scissors, a pack of moist toilettes, two rolls of gauze, several rolls of bandages, a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a bag of cotton balls, and a pair of tweezers.

With my jackpot of supplies, I get to work. I start at the nasty looking wound on his ear. I couldn't really do much than clean up the clotted blood with the toilettes from the area before adding in the peroxide. I used the cotton balls and tweezers to apply the disinfectant. If the peroxide stung Marshmallow, I certainly couldn't tell. He seemed to know that I was trying to help as he held perfectly still.

The hard part came with the fact that Marshmallow had a lot of fur. I carefully removed Marshall's sweater from around the bloodied cat and set it to the side. As I parted the ragged coat to look for the really bad cuts that needed to be treated, I couldn't help as one hand looked for wounds while the other one petted the gentle feline. I also couldn't help, but coo at the content expression that came on his muzzle as I nuzzled his cheek. He looked like he fought off a pack of wolves, and yet he purred when petted as he still bled.

"You really are a wild kitty-cat, are you, Marshmallow?" The battered black-and-white fighter only began to purr louder as I reached under his chin.

And with my persistence, I found the heavy scratches on his hips, a nasty bite on his left foreleg, and another uglier bite on his right side. The thought that he really did pick a fight with a pack of dogs returned to my head as I quickly clip the fur surrounding the wounds. The side wound as the worst, so I started there before moving onto the hips and leg.

The white toilettes and cotton balls quickly became red as they were used to wipe the congealed blood that clung to the injuries. The peroxide bottle was nearly halfway used by the time that I was satisfied with myself. I may have overdone it slightly with the disinfectant, but I certainly hated how deep these three wounds were on him and how many smaller cuts Marshmallow also had. The gauze and bandages were easily wrapped around Marshmallow's foreleg and waist, but I left the scratches on his hips alone since the bandages didn't easily go around them.

At the end, I had a slightly less bloodied, pile of bandaged black-and-white fur. The pillow became slightly stained in blood and peroxide, but I couldn't really give a damn. As long as our little gentleman was comfortable, I was happy.

I was petting his unscarred ear as I was interrupted.

"Are you sure that you aren't a paramedic?" The gruff, mirthful voice belonged to my husband and best friend. It was a running joke after I fixed up his hand. When he was younger, he was a bit of a handy man and did odd jobs whenever he could find them. After an accident with a car engine crushing and slicing his hand up really good, I kind of blanked out of everything. On the way to the hospital, I did the best I could with the long sleeve I had cut from my own, then-favorite sweater and a water bottle.

It was one of the few times that my hands were as steady as a rock.

"You're never going to forget that." That same stupid grin that he wore when he got his hand messed up was there.

"Nope," The cheeky bastard that is the love of my heart bent down to pet Marshmallow with one arm while the other held a snoozing Elijah. "So, how's the fighter? He looked like he gave something a real run."

"Well, he took a beating as much as he gave it. I don't really want to keep him outside tonight." It was true. Marshmallow was in no condition to fight off another attack from whatever did this. The 'pack of dogs' idea was really stuck in my head.

"Well, the basement could be a good place to put him. Quiet and safe enough to help him get better," Kristoff replied. And it wasn't a half-bad idea. A bit of dusting and brooming should be good enough for Marshmallow to rest in. As I stewed the idea over, Kristoff's hand moved over to the three still-sleeping bundles of fur.

"Good job, daddy," he said to the feline. And it was obvious that Marshmallow was the father of the kittens. His lengthy tail and long fur were easily seen on all of the kittens. One of them even had his black fur. But as I looked closer at the trio, it was also easy to see that they weren't completely their father.

But before I could really think about that, it was then that I also noticed that there was only the three of us around Marshmallow. A look around confirmed that we were alone. Before I could question it, Kristoff spoke up.

"I already sent Olaf and Marshall to school. They should be on the bus by now."

"They're not going to focus on anything with all of… this." I gesture lamely to the bloodied pillow and its occupants. Honestly, even I wasn't in the mood for writing after this early morning scare.

"Yeah, but daddy and babies are going to need the quiet." He said this in a sing-song tone that I couldn't help but giggle at.

"Since when were you an animal guru?" He really had just the right things to say to keep this crazy morning from getting any worse.

"Always."

"Well, all-knowing guru. Don't you have work?"

"I called ahead and said that my car won't start. They gave me a couple of hours before I have to show up. Might be docked from my pay, but I'm here and staying here." I think that it's just a 'guy' thing that makes him always love showing off the leniency at his job. Managing the state's largest ice manufactory does have its perks, like choosing when you come in.

"You really do love managing the world."

"Only my part of the world." He kissed me before talking again. "I'll put Eli in the stroller and fix up the basement a bit."

"Alright. Grab me the mop." Kristoff hums in acknowledgement as he reenters the house. I really need to clean up the porch before the smell attracts the wrong kind of visitor. The images of teeth are on the edge of my vision as I carefully avoid touching Marshmallow's bandages.

Kristoff soon returns with the child-filled stroller, the mop, and a wet paper towel. The third item confuses me until my husband points at my hands. They're bloodied from working with the blood-stained fur. Wiping the gore off, I reach for the Swiffer left by Kristoff. Thanking god that the wood on the patio was waxed, I mopped up the mess without too much trouble. By the end, the absorbent pad of the Swiffer was red and black with blood and fur.

Looking beyond, it wasn't hard to see the trail leading back around the house. I followed the drops of red around the side of my house before I stopped. It didn't take much to know that they led into the woods. Making a serious note to call some hard-core animal control service for this, I head back to the porch to freeze at a moving flash of white and red.

A slim feline head poked itself from underneath the stroller ramp before bounding up onto the patio. Taking very quiet steps, I slowly take in the scene. The white cat was almost the opposite of Marshmallow: slim, quick, and graceful. It used those traits to stride over to the pillow and nuzzle the smallest of the pillow's occupants.

Even from where I stood, I could hear the awakening mews of the smaller kittens as the white cat licked them all over. Marshmallow seemed to not be annoyed as he began to groom himself while the white cat touched his kits. Being entranced by the mystery cat, I stupidly step on the wooden staircase, making a slight creak come from the wood.

In a flash much quicker than I expected, the white cat turned about with its hair raised and back slightly arched. All the signs painted a huge 'not friendly' warning that was more obvious than the blood coating the white fur. I stay on the staircase for a while as my thoughts whirl for a bit.

I would bet my writing career that the white cat was the one who stole from the garbage bins and was the mother of the kittens. It made so much sense. The white hairs were her needing to hunt to provide for her babies. The care and attention she lavished on the little trio and Marshmallow's calm mood confirmed it. Also, the slightly swollen teats on the white cat gave it away.

I don't really know how long I was lost in thought before I dared to move again. Since the pillow was slightly off to the right side of the door, I edged towards the left to leave the small family at peace. Still, with my slow and nonthreatening movements, the white cat never let her guard down.

She wasn't hissing, but I wasn't going to prod. Slipping inside with the stroller, I let out a breath that I didn't know I held, but the one thing I did know was that white cat was going to be trouble. If Marshmallow was wild, then the other was full-blown feral.

…Okay, maybe that was over exaggerating, but not untrue. My fears of Marshmallow's wild past coming to hurt my boys quickly faded as I grew to know the patient cat, but this new cat gave off all levels of 'leave me alone.' But the feeling of bones poking sharply from furry skin still tingled in my fingers, and made me move.

Moving into the kitchen, I busy myself with fiddling with cans of cat food. We stocked a few cans whenever we decide to cook something that may not be safe for Marshmallow. Marshmallow seemed to love the stuff as he would eat an entire can at a time. This time, I open two cans and pour the contents into Marshmallow's bowl, nearly overflowing the bowl with a mix of chicken, rice, gravy, and salmon.

Dismissing the thumps of my working husband in the basement, I turn towards the front door. This time, I don't avoid the small family of felines and the white cat notices this immediately.

Arched back and raised hair comes again at the sight of me, but I don't stop. I just continue to move slowly until I reach Marshmallow. Luck was at my side as the mother cat was more concerned with her kittens that I was able to get close to Marshmallow and ignore the now-awake trio.

Going down to a knee, I held the filled dish next to the obviously hungry tomcat as he eagerly reaches to munch it down.

"Bon appetite, Marshmallow."

The cat in question was too busy eating to meow, but I could still hear his content purr as he chowed down. Holding the dish to prevent a mess, I was surprised at the approaching feline form of white and red. Ignoring my hands, the mother cat reaches over to eat some with a more relaxed posture.

And there I was, kneeling in the middle of a peaceful feast, and I really couldn't help the smile on my lips.

AN. I don't know why, but I really like writing these little chapters. Maybe it's my love for slice of life that shines through at these moments. Or maybe it's my animal lover side? Well, I won't question too deeply, and have fun with it while it lasts. ;)

And as always: concerns, comments and informed critiques are always welcomed around here.

So, until next time, Au revoir.