The Barefoot Kitchen Witch

Detente

Just Minding Our Own Business

 

And then THAT GIRL comes along.

What is she up to now??

Who the heck is that?

Um.

Maybe if we pretend we're asleep she'll stop doing this to us.

This is so embarrassing.

And Speaking of Handsome Scoundrels...

 

 

 

That's my reflection in his eye, by the way.

The Morning's Kitten Pictures

Both kittens were hanging out with me while I had my coffee this morning.  Softie was watching out the window, and right after I took this picture (and the blurry one before it, which has been deleted), she hopped up onto the windowsill and was VERY interested in a squirrel playing in the tree outside.

Julia pulled the drapes away to say hello...

And after hamming it up a bit for the camera, Julia let the drapes fall back into place, leaving Softie a little discombobulated.

But she soon relaxed...

And settled in...

For a bit of a snooze...

Bro and Sis

"Here she comes with that light-flashing thing again."

"Yeah.  I can't wait til I'm big enough to whack it out of her hand."

"Me too."

"If she didn't feed us, I'd be so outta here."

Drained

A morning visit with the vet...those shots...that ENORMOUS thermometer...it takes quite a toll on the little man-kitty.

Back from the Cat Doctor

Of course, Alex and Julia - at the last minute - wanted to come to the vet's too, so I sent them upstairs to get dressed QUICK while I moved the car seats from the truck to the car and rearranged the cat carriers so everyone would fit.  Phew!

Not a whole lot to report, actually.  All three cats were weighed, temps taken (oh, how they love that), shots galore were given, and they took some blood from Blur since she hasn't been to the vet in several years.  I also brought in a lovely fresh stool sample from Softie, for follow-up analysis.  I'll get a phone call tomorrow regarding that and Blur's bloodwork.

The kids - the human ones - were pretty good while we were there.  Julia wanted to see everything - including when they took Blur out of the room to do her bloodwork.  I didn't let Julia follow.  Just as well - they had a tough time getting a sample from Blur's leg - old veins, the vet said - so they took it from her jugular.  Yeah.  So she wasn't too happy with her visit.  She sat in my lap on the floor and shed a sweater's worth of hair all over me.  But she's in great shape, our vet - Dr. Cat Lover - has a special place in her heart for older cats, she told me, so she REALLY loved Blur. 

I bring the kittens back in 3 weeks for their next distemper shots and their rabies shots, then go back for a tech visit (no office visit charges - thank you Dr. Cat Lover!!) the following week for leukemia shots and pre-spay/neuter bloodwork.

I told my sister it would have been cheaper just to get pregnant again.  NOT REALLY AND I AM JUST KIDDING AND DON'T MEAN TO BE FLIP ABOUT THAT.  But still.  It's been - as I have mentioned before - a REALLY long time since I had kittens - plural - and so the vet bills - they're giving me a permanent deer-in-the-headlights look.  Not really.  I pride myself on not reacting.  Not even fainting.  I just write the check.

Bill called my cell as I was leaving - "Do I want to know?" he asked.  "No, no, you really don't." I said.

But this will not happen EVERY time.  It will lessen.

It's a damn good thing they're CUTE kittens, that's all I can say.

He's Really Into Recycling

(in case you're wondering, that's Alex's head there at the bottom of the picture on the right.)

He had climbed up on a small covered recycle bin on the floor that we use for bottles and cans...then onto a little plant stand under that window - we use the plant stand for files and folders of the kids' schoolwork and art and so forth - and from the plant stand, up, into the bag of bags that I bring to the grocery store with me. 

Just look at that face.

Of Needles, Thermometers, and Other Fun Stuff

Wiped out.

You know, I've found that conversations with the vet about kittens are pretty similar to conversations with the pediatrician about babies.  Especially about illnesses and symptoms.  Particularly the condition of their poop.  Or stools, if you want to be more clinical about it all.  But what's the point, really?  We know what we mean, and what we mean is poop. 

So consider that a bit of a head's up - if conversations about poop-related issues are disturbing to you, this post may not be for you.  But if you've been through kitten or puppy or baby stuff, and are a veteran of ick, then read on.

One or both of the kittens have had diarrhea for a couple of days, and yesterday morning I saw what looked like blood in one of the...um...samples.  Up til then I'd thought maybe it was caused by them eating our adult cat's food, and it not sitting well in their little kitten digestive systems.  But the blood?  Not something to mess with - or even the diarrhea, as they can get dehydrated and die from that.  (My PSA for the day.)  So, veteran poop mistress that I am, I saved some "samples" in a ziploc bag (inside another ziploc bag...inside a paper bag so I wouldn't have to look at it any more) and called the vet.  Got an appointment for mid-afternoon for the babies.  Here we go.

Coincidentally, my kids' yearly exam appointment was scheduled for the same time.  It's handy having a spouse - one can do the human appointment, one can do the feline.  I took the kittens.  I do most of the kids' doctor visits through the year, so it's good for Bill to take them now and then.  Heh heh.

So off we went, in opposite directions. 

I got to the vet's office, filled out the paperwork for the babies (cringing as I wrote "Softie" and "Scratchy" because, you know...I would have named them something like oh, Luke and Leia, which is so much more mature.  Or Pesto and Remoulade, maybe.  Or Bechamel and Bolognese.  You know, proper cat names.  But we let the children name them, and so their names stand.

I went to sit, with the kittens in their carrier, until it was our turn.  Over on the table in the corner, the magazines were fanned out nicely, so I went to get something to read.  My choices were "Cat Fancy" or "Dog Fancy" (at least that's what it might have been - I didn't really look at the dog magazines because a) it would be disloyal to the kittens and b) it would get me wanting a dog, and right now, that's a very adamant NO.  I've got enough poop to clean right now, thank you.  So I took a copy of "Cat Fancy" and sat.  And flipping through the magazine I felt...uncomfortable.  Like I was peeking in on a meeting of some secret society.  Because, you know, I have loved all my cats over the years, but I have never even considered rebuilding my home so it is more pleasing TO THE CATS.  I saw glossy spreads of home interiors with skinny stairways running up the wall, leading to a little doorway (think Tom & Jerry size) so the cats can go - where?  So they can have privacy?  They can crawl under a bed for that!  Or hide in a closet!  I found myself shaking my head a lot, a little bemused grin on my face, as I flipped through the pages.

And yet...there are a LOT of subscribers to Cat Fancy.  A LOT of people who submit photos, share heartwarming stories, and read their pets' horoscopes on a daily basis.  (Okay, I don't know about that last bit, but it sounded appropriate.)  And I'm not knocking any of that.  But it's just not me.  I don't quite get it.  But whatever.  As long as everyone's being nice to their pets, I'm fine.  I guess I'm just not quite ENOUGH of a cat person.  And I like dogs, too.  I can't be pigeon-holed.  I'm a rebel. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Okay, enough of that.

Suddenly, out of the silence, I hear a pleasant and professional voice over the loudspeaker.  (oh, and I've never been at a vet's office where there is a LOUDSPEAKER.  It felt, briefly, like a grocery store - "clean up on aisle five!")

And the voice said:  "Softie and Scratchy are here for their 2:20 appointment with Dr. Blahblahblah!"

LOUDspeaker.  An appropriate term.  So there we go - the whole WORLD got to hear what my kids named the kittens.   I put my magazine down, in anticipation of someone (laughing hysterically, no doubt) to come looking for me and the kittens.

A rather business-like looking woman (the office manager, I believe) came over and confirmed, in a business-like manner, that the kittens in the carrier were, indeed, the aforementioned Softie and Scratchy.  I followed her to room 4, she told me a tech would be in shortly, and then she left.  Moments later the tech showed up - she looked familiar but I couldn't think where I'd seen her before, unless it was (in all likelihood) last time I was at the vet's with Blur.

First one out of the carrier, once all the preliminary questions were answered, was Scratchy.  He is, I have to admit, aptly named, though he didn't do any real damage.  He tried to, however, once that thermometer went in.  Oh, he didn't like that at all, and he was quite determined to get as far away from it as he could.  He twisted and turned and reached and squirmed and made little angry kitten noises.  The tech said she'd need to have some help with him (besides me).  She reached into the carrier for Softie, who, not surprisingly, was huddled way at the back of the carrier, hoping we'd forget about her completely.  But she was very docile and patient during the temp-taking part of the show, and only let out a little tiny "mew!" of discomfort during the whole thing.  Her temp was normal.

The tech took Scratchy out of the room for his temperature re-take and also so they could do a Feline AIDS/Leukemia test on him.  She said I might hear some horrible cries from him but he'd be okay.  I told her I'd been through it before and I wouldn't worry about anything I might hear.  Strangely enough, he was very good during whatever torturous things they did back there, and I didn't hear a peep from him.  Tech Girl brought him back in and he seemed fine, but he refused to look at anyone and promptly sat down and started licking the leg they'd taken blood from.  He shook his head a few times at the unpleasant taste of the antiseptic, but soldiered on, licking determinedly, in order to erase, as best he could, the memory of all his recent indignities.

Softie left the room with Tech Girl and Scratchy worked his way across the floor until he was under my chair, and there he stayed.  Softie was brought back - she had behaved well, of course - and she, too, sat down right away to attend to her leg.

She barely licked the damp fur and then she was airborne - made me think of a popcorn kernel bursting open - the taste was clearly the most horrible she'd experienced in her 10 weeks of kittenhood.  She gamely tried again and - POP - up she went again.  Yuck!  She tried one more time, and then gave up for a bit.  She saw her brother still licking away under my chair, so she went to sit near him and gave it another go.  Nope.  Just not working.  So she opted to prowl around the room a bit more instead.

Well, to prevent this long story from getting TOO much longer, I'll cut to the point where the examination of the disgusting poop was complete and Tech Girl came in (Dr. Cat Lover was already in there with me and the kittens, she'd examined both of the babies and played with Scratchy a while, and we were chatting about Old Wives' Tales regarding urinary tract blockage in male cats.  Fun stuff, I know.  Anyway, Tech Girl came in and confirmed with Dr. Cat Lover that yep, she was right, it was coccidia. 

Coccidia, in case you're interested, are (and I am quoting from the hand-out they gave me) "protozoan (one-celled) organisms that can infect the intestine.  The disease "coccidiosis," most often affects young puppies and kittens, but can infect animals of any age."  Symptoms include (surprise, surprise) diarrhea, dehydration, weight loss and loss of appetite.  Fortunately for my kittens, they only seemed to have the diarrhea issue, as they were eating and drinking (and peeing) just fine.  If ignored (another PSA here), the kittens or puppies can eventually have seizures, and can lead to a weakening of the immune system and even (because of the dehydration) death. 

Fortunately it can be treated with medication, so I'll be dosing the kitties for the next 9 days.  Tech Girl gave them their first dose (a double dose) in the exam room.  She said the initial taste isn't bad (how she knows this for sure, I'm not certain and didn't ask) but the aftertaste was yucky.  She dosed Scratchy first, and he handled it well.  Softie, she of the more refined palate, struggled and coughed and spat out what she could.  She will be the tough one to medicate, clearly.

Oh - but the best part?  When Dr. Cat Lover told me, with a slight wince of sympathy, "It's (the diarrhea) going to get worse before it gets better."  Such common words, actually, in illnesses.  The pesky little parasite responds to the meds by MULTIPLYING RAPIDLY and causing the symptoms to increase, in a desperate attempt to fight off the meds and remain, happily and disgustingly, in its happy intestine home.  The parasite, however, will soon learn the power of the dark side, and will be forced to flee or die.  Something like that, anyway.

So, armed with a bottle of medicine and two droppers for the kittens, plus a box of free kitten food and two free samples of some flea and tick and ear mite and heartworm stuff, AND the carrier with the kittens in it, I paid my (shockingly huge but okay, it was for TWO kittens and the first year is the worst in terms of shots and illness and all that so just take a few deep breaths and sign the check already) bill and all the people (really) in the front desk area took their turns oohing and aahing and squealing and gushing over the kittens  - AND calling them by their names without snickering at me - I left the vet's office and headed home.  The kittens promptly curled up in exhausted little balls of fur and fell into comas.  Really.  They didn't bother to move until hours later.  It was just so draining, all the various devices poking them and sticking them, people looking in their ears and at their teeth.  Just too much for such little baby creatures.

And speaking of being stuck and poked, Bill and the kids arrived about 20 minutes later.  Alex told me "Wait til you hear how brave Julia was!"  Ah yes, age 4 - THE SHOTS.  My baby girl sported 4, count 'em 4, band aids on her arms (two and two).  But the thing was, when it came time for her to have those shots, Julia was - according to the nurse who inflicted all the pain - the bravest 4-year-old she (the nurse) had ever seen. 

First off, she refused to sit on Bill's lap for the shots.  She climbed up onto the table herself, and told the nurse she was ready to go.  No reaction to the first shot.  Second one - a bit of wimpering, but the nurse said that was the one that would sting most.  Third and Fourth shots - yeah, is that all you've got?  And then it was over.  She got her band aids and she was all set.  The nurse gave her a sticker because she was such a tough little chick.

Bill was amazed and impressed.   He probably would have cried more.  I know Alex would have.  But not my girl. 

She is probably so jaded about needles now that as long as she doesn't see any blood, she's fine.

That was the only horror story from the kids' visit - and it's not even a horror story, really. 

There were, of course, the humorous moments.  It's nice for Bill to experience those, too.  I don't think he's been to the yearly checkup appointment in a few years, so he hasn't had to sit and cringe when the doctor asks the kids "What kinds of healthy foods do you like to eat?" and Julia bursts out with "Macaroni and Cheese!" every time.  Alex said ribs first, but also included sushi, and eventually got around to peas, and squash, and carrots.  So we're okay as parents, I think.  At least they didn't say "Happy Meals!" or "M&Ms!" or something like that.

And Alex is going to need a visit with an eye doctor, because apparently his right eye isn't seeing as well as the left one.  Ah well - he can blame genetics for that.  I wear glasses, and Bill SHOULD but doesn't unless he's reading music in a low-light situation. 

All in all, though, the kids and kittens are healthy and (now that the appointments are over) happy, so things are good here.  This morning Julia had me rip off her band aids because "I'm all better now."  I made the mistake of saying "One, two, three, BLOOP!" or something else dumb like that when I ripped one of the Daffy Duck ones off.  She told me, in a rather condescending tone "Mommy, don't say 'one, two, three, bloop' when you do that, okay?"

At four, she's just simply too old for that sort of thing.

Midnight Rescue

Actually it was around 2:30 this morning. 

Julia woke up and was thirsty. 

I went downstairs to get her something (the water from the tap isn't all that drinkable, really) and when I walked into the kitchen the silence erupted with frantic kitten cries.

I coudn't tell where the kitten was - somewhere near the fridge - so I switched on the light and looked around - still no kitten. 

Was one of them in the fridge???  I opened the fridge and freezer doors - no kitten - looked behind the fridge - no kitten, plus a kitten could get out from there.

And then - I opened the back door.

And there was Scratchy.  Crouched between the outer screen door and the inner door. 

He leaped out and ran across the room, then turned around and (still mewing non-stop) ran back TO ME, and actually permitted me to pick him up and snuggle him a bit.  (He's been tolerant of being picked up, but he doesn't actually LIKE it and struggles to get down, though without ripping peoples' hands to shreds.)

And once I picked him up he instantly started purring like crazy.  His sister has been the purring machine, but he's been more selective about when and where and with whom he will purr.  I guess being rescued will change that.

Softie came into the kitchen and I set Scratchy down so they could sniff each other and he could tell her his tale of woe.

I guess when Bill went up to bed - before I did - he closed the kitchen door and had no idea Scratchy was in there.  The weird thing is when I went up, I went around checking doors and windows and never heard a peep from the doorway.

This morning I told Bill what had happened.  He tried to pick up Scratchy, but the kitten wanted no part of that.  Instead, he trotted over to me.

Purring.

Eating My Words...in Crustless Sandwich Form

Remember these two? They moved in just over a week ago. I wrote about how that all came about in this post.

And in that post, I wrote this:

And then Bill came over, and right about then, Alex turned to say he WISHED we could bring one of the kittens home.

And we said "Okay. How about both?"

And his eyes and mouth became enormous Os, and I'm telling you that look of stunned joy already forgives any damage the kittens do to my hands and legs as they learn when to use their claws and when not to.

(italics added for emphasis in this here post today that I'm writing right now, today.)

What I didn't realize, when I made that vow, was that it wasn't my hands and legs that were in danger, but SHADY AND DISREPUTABLE LOAVES OF BREAD PERCHING OMINOUSLY ON THE COUNTER BESIDE THE TOASTER AND THE COFFEE FILTERS!!!!!

This morning in the kitchen, while I was talking to my sister on the phone, Alex, who had been following Scratchy around trying to play with him, asked "Mom, why is the bread under here?"

I said "Huh?" in my snappy, sharp-witted way, and looked under the pie safe where he was pointing.

And sure enough, there was the plastic-wrapped portion of a loaf of white bread I'd made.� UNDER the pie safe. �On the floor.

And now, my white bread, tattered and pathetic looking, was on the floor.

I snatched it up and cradled it lovingly in my arms (okay, I didn't do the cradling part) and then set it down gently on the counter by the sink, all the while giving my sister the play-by-play of this tragedy as it unfolded.

And here are some photos I took (of course).

WARNING: �THE FOLLOWING PHOTOS ARE OF A GRAPHIC NATURE AND MAY BE DISTURBING OR OFFENSIVE TO SOME. �PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Natalie and Softie

My niece, Natalie, was here over the weekend - to see the kittens, mainly.  She's seen the rest of us before. 

And she LOVES kittens.

 

My Mew Chef (or should it be spelled "mous"?)

Early Morning Feline Notes

It's 5:12 as I begin to write this.  I've been up since 4:33.  Well, out of bed since then.  Awake for around an hour prior to that. 

It's the cat.  The big one, not the kittens.  She's feeling needy, I think.  Fearful of being displaced by these two little

OW - Softie just jumped up onto me from the floor, using all her many claws to latch onto my right arm before landing on my chest.  Now her brother is trying to follow, but he apparently didn't take the running leap she did, so he's ended up sitting next to me and wondering if he should try walking across the keys again.  That would be NO, little man.

.......now he's just looking at me with that teeny tiny little face.  The girl is on the windowsill next to the phone, just sitting tidily as cats do, her front feet together, because deep down inside, she is a lady.

The little guy is now sniffing the pillow my laptop is resting on.  He's trying to figure out if he should attack it before it attacks him.  He bit it.  Good job.

So ANYWAY, my cat seems to be kind of freaked out about the kittens.  She creeps down into the kitchen and sniffs them if they are asleep. 

If they are awake, Scratchy (oh, these names will be the death of me) will puff up like the bad-ass guy he thinks he is and hiss at her, his tail a tiny bottle brush sticking straight up in the air.  And Blur scurries away. 

I'd like to think it's because she has no use for the little upstart, but if that were the case, wouldn't she just look at him with a bit of contempt and then saunter away?  The scurrying tells me she's distressed.

And yes, I spend plenty of time thinking about this.

So the worst of it is at night.  She, Blur, sleeps on our bed, and this has never been an issue.  Til now.  Now, she takes forever to settle down.  She keeps licking us.  Obsessively.  It's very annoying, but I feel so bad for her at the same time that I'll let her lick my elbow as much as she needs to.  My feet - no.  I cover them up good.  And in addition to the licking - or, really, I think, eager-to-please grooming - "please like me, please like me, look, I'll clean the microorganisms from your ankles!!  please like me!" - she will also grab at us.  With her mouth (sharp teeth) or paws (sharp claws).  She's not biting or scratching at us, either.  It's desperate clutching.  Like she's hanging on as tight as she can, or tugging on our coats, saying "don't leave me!  don't leave me!"

And I don't know how to let her know it's okay, she's still top cat in the house.

And so I do MY version of emotionally charged grooming.  I pet her firmly, from her head to her tail, about five times in a row to say "chill out, lie down, and go to sleep.  You need to stop walking all over the bed and if you walk across Bill one more time, he will probably not be happy about that.  It's the claws.  And the being woken up two hundred times per night."  And then I let her grab my hand with her (sharp) teeth and lick me obsessively a bit, and then I kind of tuck her next to me and hope she settles down at that point.

So far, she will sit still for a minute or two, but then she's pacing again.

I know things will calm down with her eventually.  It's just been a while since I've had to deal with kittens and an older cat. 

~~~~~

The kittens are, of course, pretty entertaining.  Scratchy has settled in and doesn't lash out if we pick him up.  He doesn't want us to make a habit of it - that's pretty clear - but he seems to realize that we're not out to hurt him.  He loves the ceiling fan in the dining room.  Loves it.  Those blades flying around up there are just calling to him.  If only he could figure out how to get at them.  He tries, though.  He hops up onto a chair (sometimes it takes a couple of tries) and then up onto the Forbidden Zone - the table.  I found him there a couple days ago, just staring at the fan blades, his eyes wide and crazed, his little body poised and ready to leap.  If only it weren't so WAY UP HIGH.  I herded him off the table and within a minute he was back up there again.  Third time he got my message and stayed down for the rest of the day.  But yesterday he was back on there while Bill and I were eating lunch.  Scratchy needs to learn to pick his moments.  He needs to learn that hopping up on the table while the big people are there isn't really the best plan.  It's this sort of wisdom that Blur needs to impart, eventually.

  

(he's playing with a blueberry in the photo above)

Softie (or Softy - I can't decide.  Maybe I should ask Julia.  It's her kitten, after all.) is the more snuggly one.  She's right here next to me, just sitting.  Not even trying to drink my ice water.  She's a little more chatty, too, than Scratchy.  She says hi with her tiny, barely audible little mew, her tiny mouth wide like she's oh, so pathetic.  And she does these little chirpy "prrrrup" sounds that I'd forgotten all about - it's been so long since I've had a kitten to listen to.

She is purring now.  Maybe she knows I'm writing nicely about her.  She will probably fall asleep soon.  She has that drowsy look about her.  Her head is drooping.  Her eyes are closing. It's only a matter of time.

My sister and her kids are coming up later today.  The kids will sleep over.  My sister will trim my kids' shaggy hair.  We'll eat.  I'm planning to make cheese, so maybe we'll do pizza.

But the main reason - probably the ONLY reason, really - is to see the kittens.

Softie's eyes are hysterical right now.  Practically rolling back in her head from kitty exhaustion.  All that playing.  She's swaying back and forth.  Any moment now she'll have to snuggle down; her tiny front legs will give way and that will be it.  She'll be down for the count.  Her brother is over there on the red chair, head on his paw, dreaming of ceiling fans. 

They're so cute.

Yin and Yang

aka Scratchy and Softy.  or Softie.  I don't know.  I tend to call them Him and Her anyway.

Running Late This Morning

With EVERYTHING, it seems.  So TWD posting will be later on today at some point, I THINK. 

I blame these two:

Sure, they look all sweet and drowsy, but don't let that fool you. 

By the way, Scratchy is settling in nicely and allowed Alex to pet him and pick him up without drawing any blood.  So things are good.

These photos were taken on our couch in the basement.  Both kittens were sitting with my kids, just chillin' out, watching cartoons, and drifting off to sleep.  The kittens.  My kids?  They don't believe in sleep.