Friday, July 17, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I adore him. My children adore him, but I feel like I'm swimming in cats all the time. I never intended to keep him, but the children are begging me to. In addition, they would like me to get rid of Obi Wan and Bella. That, my friends, is not going to happen.
The way I see it, I have two options:
- Keep Dr. Quinn and hope that the other cats accept him fully and I that I can deal with the constant cat care.
- Find a home for Dr. Quinn where he will be loved, adored, and cared for by someone who can dedicate more of their time to him.
The thing about Dr. Quinn is that he is so precious. He's just a kind hearted kitty. He likes dogs and children. He faithfully uses the cat box. He loves to cuddle. He prefers to hide under the recliner or snuggle with Obi Wan.
If he was my first time kitty, I'd want to keep him, but I feel like he's being neglected because of the amount of time I spend away from home. Obi and Bella don't mind. They have each other and spend a lot of time playing and cleaning each other, but Dr. Quinn looks like he wishes he could be part of the "in" crowd.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
In case, I failed to mention it before, I have two wonderful (human) children. A grandparent called me and said you will never guess what we have. These people are dog folks. They have a long history of owning dogs and shunning cats. I don't understand it, but I accept it. I guessed until I realized that, she was right, I would never guess.
She told me that she had kittens. I was in a state of shock. I asked how they came to have the kittens and they said that the mother had passed away due to some third party interference. My heart broke for them. They were two weeks old roughly and they had been born outside in the safest place their mother could provide them. They were in the grandmother's back yard. I asked how they were feeding them and I was told they put some watered down milk in a saucer and that the kittens were attempting to drink from it. I told her immediately that I would take them all when I came to visit the next day.
The kids and I brought the kittens home and I put them in my giant claw foot bath tub. I put towels and the cat bed that Bella had ignored for a month in the tub and tucked them in. I then began the process of feeding them. They wouldn't nurse for the bottle. They were so very hungry that it was as if they just didn't have the patience for it. I took a deep breath, got a tiny measuring spoon, and spoon fed them.
There were four kittens. I didn't want to name them since I had no plans to keep them. I wanted them to grow and be healthy. I had already called St. Petersburg's Friends of Strays because I wanted these guys to live.
Whenever I would walk into the bathroom chaos would ensue. All of the kittens immediately wanted food and affection. I gave them both, obviously. The formula was helping them to grow into big monster kittens, except for one. The runt was half the size of the others. She was ferocious, loud, and demanding. She was determined to not be forgotten. I'll admit that I am and always have been a sucker for a runt.
The kittens were old enough that they could eat solid food and they knew how to use a litter box. My job was done. A friend took one black kitten and named her Suki. I know had two chunky gray kittens (temporarily named Buddha and Romeo for obvious reasons) and I had the runt. I put the kittens into the box and was going to take them all to meet the man who represented the Friends of Strays, but I couldn't do it. The runt was freaking out and desperate to get out of the box, so I did the only think I could think of, I took her out of the box and kept her.
I took the others to the very nice gentleman. We met at PetSmart and when the box left my hands I lost it. Right then and there, in the middle of the stupid store, I burst into tears. I was so embarrassed. I mean, who freaking sobs in a pet store? I do. I decided to leave immediately, now that I was mortified. The kittens were crying so loud that it felt like my chest was being ripped out. It was like I was leaving my own children, but I left them.
I got home and Bella was growling and roaring at the bathroom door. I shoved her away from the door and went in to my newest addition. She looked like a little Yoda. She had huge ears and everything else was so tiny. I thought it was a terrible thing to name someone Yoda, so I thought Obi Wan would be nicer. I should mention, if it isn't painfully obvious by now, that I though Obi was a boy. I am not sure why. She had no boy parts. I just apparently missed cat anatomy.
Obi Wan never allowed Bella's grumbling to intimidate her. Initially, I seperated them because of Obi's size. Bella, though only a year old, could have hurt her. At least, that's what I thought. When I was home I always let Obi roam free. One day Bella got in her face and I thought I Obi would run away or submit, but she didn't. She about smacked Bella's face off and then lunged for her throat. Bella was shocked beyond words. She initally ignored the neck biter and then she took her paw and held Obi down on the floor. She was gentle and patient. Obi Wan calmed down and allowed Bella to clean her. I'd never seen her do that before, but from that moment on the girls have gotten along like milk and cookies. Alone they are good, but together they are great.