I stopped at McDonald’s to get a cheeseburger on my way home yesterday (DON’T JUDGE ME, I WAS STARVING), and while I was waiting in line at the drive-thru, Fred called to make sure I was still alive (I’d had an appointment for an iron infusion that turned out to take 6 hours rather than the 2 we’d expected, due to the fact that the insurance company proclaimed that they had to use a certain kind of iron).
“I have a surprise for you when you get home,” he said. “And I think you’ll like it a lot.”
“Is it food?” I said, being very very hungry.
He laughed. “Well, I guess in some countries you could eat it…”
Which is when I HIGHLY suspected that it was a kitten, and if not a kitten, then something living. Maybe a duck or a goose.
I got home, and Fred met me at the door.
“This is the rash I got…” he said, holding out his rash-covered arms. “From the sticky bushes…” He led me inside. “Where I found these.” He opened a box, and there were four small kittens. Four little faces turned up to look at me, and all four of them hissed and spat at me.
(I suspect they didn’t get the memo that there’s nothing cuter and LESS threatening than a hissing kitten.)
Someone who works with Fred had spotted these four kittens under a bush near the window of his office. He watched them for the better part of the day, and then just as Fred was going to leave work for the day, this guy thought “Now, who do I know who has the word SUCKAH written on his forehead when it comes to cats? Hmm, who who who?”
And Fred rode to the rescue.
“I hate you,” I said to Fred. “And I hate your coworker and I wonder why the universe is insistent that we have another set of fosters in our lives?”
(Remember Ike from a few weeks ago?)
So I looked them over and then weighed one of them and then set them up in a cage with some soft blankets and a place to hide, and a litter box. I called the Challenger’s House manager and blamed it all on Fred, and told her we’d foster them, and she agreed that they could be Challenger’s House kittens.
(One of the women who works at the office near where the kittens were found has already said that she wants the little gray one.)
I think they’re about a month old, given that they weigh around a pound. They’re in really good shape, very clean, and I didn’t see any fleas on them. And most telling of all, their eyes are not goopy in the slightest.
It’s my very strong suspicion that they were dumped there, and that likely they weren’t there for long because they’re in such good condition. I don’t think I’ve ever had a set of fosters who didn’t come to me with goopy eyes.
So we tried putting some canned food on a plate in the cage, and they were uninterested. Then we tried bottle feeding them last night, and they were uninterested (though if they got some formula in their mouths, they’d swallow it). There’s one friendly calico and one hissy-spitty calico, the little gray one spits at Fred, but this morning he clung to the front of my shirt and let me pet him for a long time. The black one is hissy-spitty, but s/he’s not hissing and spitting like s/he means it.
We know the calicos are girls, but aren’t sure what the black and gray ones are. Fred’s the one with the kitten-sexing skills in this household, and he glanced and couldn’t tell what they were, but he’ll look more seriously tonight.
This morning we tried giving them bottles again, and they chewed on the nipples and swallowed the formula that came out, but didn’t really latch on and suck. We got some formula into them, though, and I wiped each of them with a paper towel to make them urinate, but later on one of them used the little litter box I’d put in the cage.
The gray one, as I mentioned, latched onto my shirt and let me pet him/ her for a long time (even purred a little!). Then I got out a jar of chicken baby food and tried smearing some around his mouth. I ended up getting him to lick some off my fingers, but none of the others were interested.
So, they’re cute, and they’ll be here for at least another month. We haven’t named them yet, but I’m sure once we figure out what the gray one and the black one are, Fred will come up with names for them.
This one has a few white spots, and has a kind of “frosted” look.
This one’s spoken for – and the biggest of the bunch.
The hissy-spitty calico. She’s all “UNHAND ME, SIR!”
The friendly calico.
Eyelip count: Hoyt’s left eyelip came off yesterday, and Lafayette’s got one that’s hanging on (I think it’s actually still attached by some tissue, which is why I haven’t snipped it off). This means that Sookie and Terry have both (all four?) of their eyelips still (and they’re looking good!), Lafayette has one and a half, and Sam’s left eyelip is hanging on for dear life – it’s not even pretending to want to come off.
After I said on Sunday that we’d probably start letting the True Bloods out into the house “later this week”, Fred came upstairs while I was with them, and they all crowded around the temporary door and looked up at him with hopeful eyes, and he said “Come on, let’s just let them out!”, so we did.
So far, everyone’s behaving. Kara’s had to put the smack down a few times, and the True Bloods respond by immediately going docile, because they’re no dummies. Mostly, they run around and play with each other, and explore the house. Yesterday, they discovered the toilet paper and pulled it all off the roll. (They were QUITE proud of themselves.)
I haven’t gotten any pictures of them out and about, but I will, I promise!
Sam shows that rope just who the boss is.
Terry (before surgery), hanging out on the upside-down cat basket.
Four of the six.
Six of the six!
Bath time: so annoying!
Sleepy Sam.
Hoyt, stretching and trying to decide whether to go wake up Sookie.
Jake’s all “This is FOOD and thus it is MINE” and the True Bloods are all “Think so? ‘Cause we don’t see it that way.”
Sweet Sam.
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Previously
2008: My little peanut is sitting in a cage by herself!
2007: No entry.
2006: She’s so cute it hurts, she really is.
2005: Awww, it’s baby Sugarbutt and baby Tommy (and their brother and sister)!