boomerang
So bright and early Monday morning, the kittens took a vote and picked their representative to be tested for assorted nastiness at the vet clinic. The gray and white one won, and a few hours later he and, by extrapolation, his siblings, were declared fit to join the general population of cats in the house, at least until suitable homes are found for them, which at the rate things are going will be shortly after they have grandchildren.
The door to my office was thown open and their aunts and uncles were invited in to visit, which they did amongst all manner of joyous hissing and spitting. Then the kittens were encouraged to explore the Wonderful World of Somewhere Not My Office, with the ulterior motive being for me to actually get some work done. The brave little creatures toddled forth into the hallway and headed for the stairs down to the first floor as I stifled a sob and waved goodbye with a claw-tattered page from the New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary I had found under what is left of my desk .
The room seemed suddenly empty without the pitty-pat of their little paws and their cries of joy when they knocked the router to the floor or chewed through another run of ethernet cabling. A cup of coffee rested, achingly unspilled, near a stack of important papers. They were gone. The nest was empty. Childhood's end.
Ten minutes later they were back, and they haven't left since. The only difference is that several of the other cats followed them back and I now have an average population of ten cats in my office. I left the room just now and returned to find Uncle Gus apparently conducting a class for the little tykes in Turning On the TV.
Maybe if I turn off the lights and leave the windows open for a few days....