Mister Boogers is OBSESSED with being in the chicken yard. We usually let the cats out for most of the morning, then when it gets hot, we shut the back door until late afternoon – they tend to not want to be out there when it gets really hot, and leaving the back door open just makes it hotter in the laundry room and kitchen. Yesterday after we’d closed the back door, Mister Boogers sat on the dryer and looked mournfully into the back yard. I had to go out to hang up laundry on the clothesline, and he took the opportunity to go flying out the back door. I hung up laundry, figuring I’d catch him and bring him inside when I was done, and even though I yelled at him, he climbed over the gate to the chicken yard, sniffed around, and ended up under the chicken coop, WITH THE CHICKENS.
The chickens don’t care at all, and he’s not that interested in the chickens, just in being under the coop, where it’s nice and cool. He hung out for ten minutes, then climbed back over the gate and went inside with me when I was done hanging laundry.
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I took Gilligan and Spanky to the pet store on Friday. They were FREAKED OUT and immediately climbed into the litter box to hide.
Break my heart, why don’tcha?
I don’t know if they’ve been adopted yet – I’m heading out to the pet store in a little while; I’ll report back on them tomorrow.
The only reason I never separated the kittens – like someone suggested a while back – is because we couldn’t stand the thought of a kitten sitting in the guest bedroom, separated from his or her sibling, all sad and lonely with no one to play with.
We are idiots.
When I got back from taking Spanky and Gilligan to the pet store, I went up to see Maryanne. I brought the carrier in with me, because I like to leave a carrier in the room with the fosters so they’ll get used to its presence, so that when the time comes I can snatch them up and toss them in there and they won’t know what hit ’em. Anyway, I put the carrier down and opened the door. She hopped down off the cat tree, went into the carrier, sniffed the towel where her brothers had so recently been, made a sound of confusion, and licked the towel.
I felt like the most heartless, evil person in the world.
And THEN. What did she do? She came over to me to be petted. She came OVER to ME to BE PETTED. On PURPOSE. And she was a little skittish, but she let me pet her. And then she flopped over and made me pet her some more. And then she rubbed against me and purred and meowed. Then, when Tommy tapped at the door to be let in, instead of hissing and running from him like she’d done every single time we let him into the foster room in the past, she ran over to him and rubbed up against him.
It’s a Christmas miracle in August, is what it is.
We’ve pretty much let her have the run of the house the last few days and she’s been playing and running and meowing (girlfriend has some LUNGS, and plenty to say) and just generally making herself at home. She’s still a bit skittish – she doesn’t like you walking toward her or standing over her – but if you get on her level, she’ll come for some loving. She lets Fred pick her up and hold her, and she and Fred (and Miz Poo!) took a nap together yesterday.
I will never doubt the advice to split up skittish kittens again, I swear it.
“I am a pretty, pretty princess.”
“And I am the Queen.”
She’s not a lap-sitter, but it’s early days yet. I think she’ll get there!
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Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.