*Jahaira drags her way towards her laptop*

Too l-long… No u-update… I... I m-must… update…

*Jahaira clicks upon the update button, smiles, and passes out*

*Laptop screen is suddenly filled with a pop-up labeled 'In case of emergencies' and replays a recorded message*

Hello, hello? Hi! If anyone is hearing this, then I've probably passed out due to college sucking the life out of me. Don't be alarmed, I'll wake up in an hour or two and I promise to make up for being late on my schedule. Still, I finally got a chapter up on one of my stories. I can't hardly wait!

So, without further ado, Enjoy!

*Recorded message ends*

Namings

After all was said and done, our odd family of six gained four more members.

Thankfully, the following days were pretty calm.

As planned, we moved Marshmallow and the three kittens into the kitty-proof basement. I will forever thank God for duct-tape, but before we could do anything else, the white-furred mother bolted off. The flash of white and red disappearing towards the nearby woods made me sure of it.

With its nervous energy and hair-triggered anger, I was more than delighted that she was gone… at least, for a short while.

The white cat was still the three kittens' mother and they were still too young to be completely weaned from her. So, I naturally freaked out about that fact for the rest of the day. As much as Kristoff tried to calm me, I still lost sleep over it. But what little sleep I had caught had calmed me down a lot.

During next breakfast, without me freaking out over every little detail, I began planning. I already was a mother of three, so feeding little babies through a breast or a bottle was nothing new to me. Whichever people created the powdered baby formula were freakin' geniuses. All I needed to do was do a bit of internet surfing for a few details.

So, the day after Marshmallow's return, a quick stop to a pet shop got me half a dozen cans of powdered kitten formula, but I also got fresh bandages, flea medicine, and some strong antibiotics. With all of the medical supplies used the other day and the many more to be used to patch marshmallow up, stocking up wasn't a bad idea.

However, when I drove up to my home, I found out that all six of those cans would be wasted.

Why?

Well, she was back. And she was furious.

I'm definitely far from being a cat whisperer in any way, shape, or form, but no one in their right mind would walk up to a hissing, spitting, and yowling cat… unless your name was Olaf. Thankfully, Olaf and Marshall had already left for school.

The white mama-cat was completely white this time, probably from a good grooming session. Even from my place in the driveway, its white fur stood out from the darker shaded wood of the porch and door as well as its yowling stood out from the silence.

With my highly-tuned mother-senses, I wisely left Elijah in the car-seat as I left the car. And that was where things got weird. The very second that my door shut, the cat quiet down. I made sure to move as slowly and steadily as possible as I made my way up to the porch. The entire time I could feel and see its eyes on me, and I can say this with 100% truth: it hated me. No cat can glare like that and not try to claw your eyes out.

It was not hard at all to skirt around the death glare and head towards the back. After making sure that my back door was locked, I headed towards the basement. There was only two reasons that the cat would return: one, being my food and two, being her babies. It wasn't that hard to figure out.

Anyway, everything was as it should be in the basement. Marshmallow was in his fluffy throne and the kittens were awake if their soft mewing was any indication. Moving around the few 'presents' that were on the floor, I crouched down next to the resting fighter.

"Hey," was all I could say. Reaching out a hand, I carefully pet his head. Marshmallow's throaty purr was loud in the quietness. Little mews that also sounded close to me made me look around. As ragged as Marshmallow's fur was now, the three kittens were really well hidden in it. Especially the little black cat, as I could only see his blue eyes staring at me from a black patch of Marshmallow's coat. The grey one was ignoring me, too busy batting at Marshmallow's fluffy tail. The small orange kitten was the only one who approached me.

"Hey," I repeated in a higher tone. Despite my need for a longer vocabulary, I was too busy petting the warm little ball of fur who was trying to eat my fingers. Taking that as a cue, I scooped up the entire bed and headed back upstairs.

I did stop by the kitchen to grab Marshmallow's bowl and a whole can of cat food. Maybe the cat wouldn't scratch out my eyes, if I had some real food ready. Tucking the two objects under my arms, I carried on to the back door. Going through the back door and to the front porch was even slower than earlier, but I wasn't taking any chances with the preciousness that I held on the pillow.

But even when I made it back to the front, I wished I was slower. Seriously, that cat hated- no, loathed me. She really looked like she was seconds from tearing my eyes out. The only reason I was still standing was because I was holding her babies.

I still took care to keep each and every one of my movements controlled.

First step: Left foot. Right foot.

Second step: Right foot. Left foot.

Third step: Left foot. Ri-Don't sneeze! …Right foot.

Porch: Right foot. Left foot.

Okay, first part was done. Now, I just had to get to eye level with the hate-filled feline to put down the pillow. Fantastic.

Heading to the left side of the door, and keeping the bestial glare in the corner of my eye, I put the pillow on the ground. I keep my arms steady as I take Marshmallow's bowl and the can of food from under my arm. Letting my muscle memory take over, I filled the bowl with Marshmallow's favorite cat food: chicken and rice.

Holding the dish out, Marshmallow dug in with gusto. Somewhere inside me relaxed a bit as I saw the beaten fighter eating like it was any other day. I didn't move away as to keep the pillow from being food-stained, all the while, the white had stayed away.

I was still holding the now-clean bowl when the white cat decided to approach. She stalked up in a crouching crawl until she was on the side of the pillow with her babies. And taking that as my cue, I shimmied away with a last stroke to Marshmallow's chin.

As much as I would have liked to stay, I still had work to do. I moved the rest of the groceries to the house by the back door as I watched the feline family from the corner of my eye. A stupid smile was on my face as the kittens nursed from their mother and Marshmallow doing some grooming. But with every trip from the house to the car, I knew that I was being watched as well.

I honestly couldn't tell who was watching who more: me watching the cats or the white cat watching me. But in the end, I wasn't mauled to death and the mother remained even after I had packed all the supplies away.

The reason for all of the details of my narrow escape from death by mauling was that it wasn't really over. Don't get me wrong: the days did end up pretty boring after a while. By the end of the first week, Marshmallow's wounds were closing, the kittens grew up, and our family began to forget the days without Marshmallow's calming presence. It was boring, but a good kind of boredom.

But the glare of the white cat never truly went away.

I will admit that it did change a slight bit. You know, the whole 'I'll kill you for fun' glare turned into a more of a 'Stay out of my way' stare. Even though it was from a feline's eyes, the message was loud and clear to me, and I made sure that the same message was loud and clear to Marshall and Olaf.

I still laugh at Olaf making the white cat an excuse for being a 'protective mommy,' but even he understood the importance of leaving the feline be. Still, that didn't stop either of my boys from naming the kittens. Drawing from an age of kids movies, they came up with Jack, Po, and Queen for the little trio. The black one was Jack from the Jack Frost in the 'Rise of the Guardians' movie. His icy-blue eyes made the name fit for him. Po was the little gray kitten and was named from the 'Kung Fu Panda' movie's Po Ping. The tumbling, playful kitten's personality made the name stick like glue. And little Queen was the orange kitten who was named after the 'Cars' movie's Lightning McQueen. With her zipping across in a blur of orange, it wasn't hard to figure out why they named her like that.

Strangely enough, the boys didn't give the white cat a name… but I guess it wasn't too strange with the schedule we had in the house.

The white cat would visit three times a day: just after the school bus left, when I was preparing dinner, and at dusk. Two of those arrivals had the boys at school and they knew not to bother the mother during her last arrival of the day, so they never truly interacted with the white cat. Nevertheless, the pattern was pretty easy. Walking back and forth between the porch and the basement became a habit as I moved the small family. While I kept them indoors most of the day, the second the mama cat's white fur was on my porch, I went to pick them up.

In all honesty, I think I got to know the white cat better than anybody else… and I think the cat would say the same about me. But even with the passing time, we still kept out distances from each other, but we weren't at each other's throats. I'm still thankful for that small miracle whenever I'm able to change Marshmallow's bandages or when I gave the kittens their first bath.

I would describe the relationship between us mothers not as a love-hate and not even a terrified-hate relationship, but more of a respect-ignore kind of relationship. I keep the babies (feline and human) under a solid, warm roof, and mama kitty keeps her claws to herself.

That little compromise between us changed the hostile wildcat into an aloof visitor and a worried wimp in to a not-so-reluctant hostess.

For a while, the both of us were happy in our own ways.

AN. *the screen displays a new pop-up named 'Author's Notes' before another recording plays.*

Yeah, I'm probably still knocked out. But I resolved to get a chapter out this week in any of my stories, and by the gods, I shall do it. Still, be gentle. I will make up for missing so much time, you all have my word.

And as always: comments, concerns, and informed critiques are always welcomed. And vizgirl, I'm glad you like this, and don't you worry: every story I start, I'm going to finish to the best of my ability.

So, until next time, Au revoir.

*The second recorded message ends and the laptop goes into sleep-mode, leaving the room dim with an unconscious Jahaira on the floor*