So, little kitty’s accommodations went under a fairly low dresser and we kept an eye on Angus and Euba, who seldom go into that bedroom. Little kitty got water logged kibbles whenever he emptied his bowl, plenty of water and an improvised litter box. He didn’t even have to use the facility for 36 hours! That’s pretty close to gone! Then he used the floor behind the box. He’d had no instructions from his first mama! I put one little poop in his box and put him in and he buried it with gusto. He may have been a wild boy, but he caught on to the rules real fast.
New kitty slept with me the first couple of nights. He’d been introduced to Purrl and Ryon. Purrl is indoor/outdoor and totally disinterested in anything indoors save the food bowl and a comfy chair. Ryon is indoor, a big kitten at heart, with a little streak of bully. We had to remind Ryon often to be nice, he’s a baby, and to be safe I just took new kitty to bed. Much whiskers and purring in my ear.
Jan took new kitty to the vet on the first Wednesday. All the animals in the house have her last name. It saves having to remember an animal’s last name, whoever makes a vet run. He needed a first name, so he got it at the counter: Toby.
Toby weighed just over a pound, probably was about 4 weeks, had fleas, worms and ear mites, was pronounced rescued in the nick of time and in fine health. What kitten could ask for more. He got flea medicine, worm medicine, ear medicine, his first vaccination and an appointment to come back for more. When he went back the second time, he was strong enough to get seriously angry about attacking the cat carrier and left a baby tooth on its bottom. The vet suggested a soft carrier. I went right on Amazon (I love Amazon) and bought him a Sherpa carrier. What kitten could ask for more. He hasn’t used it yet, but he’s coming up on neutering right now, about eight weeks post Pittsburgh, and we’ll see if he’s impressed. (With the carrier.)
He’s a real kitten:
Under the chair, taunting Ryon.
On the chair, waking Uncle Purrl.
In the window.
The day Angus strolled in and cleaned out the cat bowl, Toby said no problem. He climbed the steps of the stool and ate big kibbles, crunching them up like a big boy cat.
We gave him a stepping stone to the litter box table and now he goes where the big boys go. He’s busy, busy, busy. He slept with me a week or so. Then he moved upstairs and slept on Jan’s blanket chest. Now we don’t know where he sleeps. Don’t pick him up—he just wiggles to escape. He may climb up to nap in my chair. Every morning he comes from wherever he was, around the corner into my room, back feet slipping, rear end swaying like the third trailer on a triple tandem on the turnpike. One jump to the top of the bed with only a fleeting intermediary boost from the quilt. Gets his morning pet. Off again. Busy, busy, busy. He generally comes back to tangle with the shoe laces. And then I don’t see him unless he takes an afternoon nap in the living room. I had to make a twenty mile trip to the optometrist and have my glasses adjusted after he battled them one night. I keep them in a real high place overnight now. I hope. I sent this video to Carol, who replied: He’s brilliant. And I responded: He’s effing brilliant.
I'm catching up on the Toby story; his constant attempts at escaping being held are very similar to Angel, who was also neglected and part feral when I brought him home. Angel is three now and still doesn't like being held.
ReplyDeleteLove the video!