We took Comma and Sir William Purrington to the vet to get neutered yesterday. They love the carriers; as soon as I bring them out, they jump in. (To play, not because they know we’re taking them somewhere.)
Case in point: Bag O’ Comma.
When we picked them up post-surgery, they were both wearing cones. Cats use their whiskers for navigation, so as soon as we got them home, they proceeded to walk right into stuff: chair legs, walls, our legs. Add to that the fact that they were walking bow-legged, like little cowboys, and it looked like we’d gotten our kittens drunk.
Then they had to figure out how to eat and drink with the cones on. That was a messy lesson.
They’re not supposed to be running around, jumping, or play fighting, but of course they did all three of those things within minutes of arriving home. YOU try explaining “bed rest” to kittens!
They love it when we scratch them inside the cones, though. Pure bliss:
More pictures of the adorably-coned kittens on my Flickr!
Ok, so I promised to post weekly and then let over three weeks go by. In my defense, fiction writers are very good liars. Technically it counts as “honing the craft.”
But writers are not immune to guilt. So please allow me to bribe you with some bonus kitten pictures. I even lolcat’d them for you, because that’s how much I care. They’re all of Sir William–what can I say, he’s just more photogenic than Comma. (Don’t tell Comma.)
In other news, both kittens are getting neutered tomorrow. I don’t know if they’ll be getting Cones of Shame, but if they do, you can bet there’ll be pictures. Don’t worry–I’ll be giving them all the catnip they can handle until they’re back to their old selves!
I am a dog person. I swear! But dogs require more time and attention than I can spare right now: they need to be housebroken, trained, taken out to pee at least twice a day, and exercised at least an hour a day. Otherwise, you end up with a frustrated, unhappy pup on your hands.
I finally had to bite the bullet and admit it: if I wanted pets, my lifestyle was much more suited to cats. So I perused the “kittens available for adoption” section of the Toronto Cat Rescue website, and lo and behold: there was a litter of 3-month-old kittens who the foster person described as “cuddle machines.” My partner Julian, a crazy cat lady in his own right, agreed that we should adopt two brothers (so they’d have company when we were off at work).
Yesterday my cat-loving coworker (the one who introduced me to the Toronto Cat Rescue website in the first place) took me to go pick up the kittens. There were six in the litter, and as soon as we entered the room, they all ran to us and started purring and cuddling. I took home a black one with a tiny white patch on his chest (Comma) and a black and white one (Sir William Purrington III–don’t blame me, Julian named that one!).
They’re settling in nicely. They quickly converted Julian’s winter accessory shelves into beds:
It’s pretty hard to get clear shots of them, as they don’t stay still very long, but here are a few more pictures.
Comma chilling on a cushion:
Sir William Purrington III takes his turn on the cushion:
Many more pictures on my Flickr!