J presses a finger to his lips and beckons me to the door of the bedroom.

Claire and Bebe are in bed, both on their backs, rolling around, enjoying the sunshine, squeaking. Feet, paws, hands wave in the air. As I watch, Claire reaches over to Bebe’s front legs. Bebe takes the fat infant fist gently between her sheathed forepaws, and licks it.

I let out a breath. They look up and see us. Claire giggles. Bebe turns over, comes to sit on the edge of the bed and coolly washes herself. She’s an aggressive, territorial alpha female, she’d have us know. She wouldn’t be caught dead dandling a human kitten between her scythe-like talons. Well, maybe this once, but if we tell anyone, we’re dead meat. Understood?

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