So, we have new fosters. This bunch came – I think – from the same woman who had the last bunch, and the bunch before, even. She lives in the country and there’s been a real problem with people dropping cats off in her area.
Unlike the last bunch, this litter – there are six of them, four boys and two girls – aren’t terribly friendly. It’s only been a few days, though, so hopefully they’ll warm up. None of them are snugglers, and two of them are scaredy-cat hiders, so we may have to get drastic (ie, separating them from the others) if they don’t chill out in the next few days.
I tried the thing Miss Pink told me about, rubbing their little faces with a piece of flannel around my finger like I’m their momma, and they put up with it, so we’ll see how they act when I go up there again.
Anyway, they’re cute, there are six of them, and since two of them looked so much like Keith and Brolo from the last litter, I stuck with the Keith and the Girl naming theme, even grabbing a couple of names of regular posters in their forum.
Malley.
Spooky.
Deuce.
Rhian.
Jesikat.
Peyton.
The first night we got them, these scaredy cats hid behind the door. That’s Jesikat, Deuce, and Malley.
Peyton puts his paws in the air like he just don’t care.
Rhian in the cat tree.
Peyton’s all “Hellew.”
Fred and I had a confused conversation where I kept referring to Deuce as “he” (which he is), but Fred thought I’d named the cat “Dooce” (which I hadn’t) and wanted to know why I’d name a boy cat “Dooce.” Which I hadn’t. It took a distressingly long amount of time to get the point across that the cat’s name was not “Dooce” but rather “Deuce.”
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Whenever I step one foot outside the house – especially if I leave by the side door – Spanky sits at the door and watches every move I make. If I’m doing something like filling bird feeders, he sits and watches until I turn and look at him, and then he meows at me, like “Enough of the outside stuff! You’re making me nervous! Get back in here!” Between this and his job as Bathroom Ambassador, I don’t know how on earth he squeezes all 23 1/2 of those vital naptime hours into his day. He manages, though – our Spanky is King of time management.
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Previously
2006: Where else is there to sleep in this horrid, uncomfortable house where there are three warm and cozy cat beds to every single cat?
2005: Also, there are little cinnamon footprints around the food bowl, because little Sugarbutt gets SO HAPPY when he’s eating that he has to dance around in the cinnamon and then drag it all over the room.