Monday, June 23, 2014
I keep trying other names, but that one's sticking for some reason. We tried Orion last night, but it's not flying with me this morning. I almost don't want to name him Ansel, because Les flips it around a bit and calls him Aslan instead, and I'm not a huge CS Lewis fan. But when I look into his little kitten eyes, that's the read I get.
Poor little guy was terrific when we brought him home Saturday (after a detour to Petsmart to throw down ridic money on decent food and kitten toys, which he's so young, he's ignoring so far)...but yesterday after a long midday nap, the URI (upper respiratory infection) which is so common in critters that come home from shelters apparently, hit him big-time. Watching a kitten sneeze is frickin' adorable (well, until he snots on you a couple of times), but he started coughing last night, and you can just tell he's miserable. He has an appointment with the local vet this afternoon, not a moment too soon, because he's showing no interest in food today. Hubs is brilliant; he bought a little booger sucker and eye dropper last night, and I was able to get some water and milk into him this morning. I'll breathe a sigh of relief when he hits the vet's table though, or eats something solid.
Little dude turns 2 months today. We got him for a song (shelter was running a special). He's got his first shots, and he's neutered and microchipped. I'm hoping the vet takes the kitty insurance we've got for 30 days free, because I'd love for this not to be his well kitty visit, but owning pets is like having kids, so you find the money when it's needed.
I spent the weekend imprinting on him. He's a chest snoozer, to the chagrin of my posture. He's on my shoulder as I type this. Figaro is definitely more Les's cat, so we're trying this guy as more mine and so far so good. He's so tiny! I'm actually surprised they neutered him at a month and 27 days, because 2 months is norm, but he must've seemed strong enough.
We scored him at the first shelter we tried, about 15 minutes outside of Weaverville, one county over. I held a couple of other tiger/callie mixes and a white girl with black spots. Ansel has stronger tabby markings along his body, so when I spotted him, I asked to hold him, and he was definitely the most chilled out of the bunch. Slipped right into my arms and said hey. I went in there hoping they had orange kittens, but knowing I wanted to walk out with one, so the decision really wasn't hard at all.
Figaro is less than thrilled. Hell, she tolerates us pleasantly on a good day, but pet her when she's not in the mood or in the wrong place, and we're just as likely to get hissed at. 11 years old. She's a bit of a shithead. So we're taking her initial anger in stride. Les warned me she may act out, like not crapping in her box or something. Kind of seems right now that she's acting out by not crapping, period, so we moved her litter box to the bedroom for now, since we're isolating them anyway on account of the URI. Once Ansel's healthy and a little bigger though, we'll put them together more, ever so slowly. I swear, Fig's an above-average size cat, but I've seen bigger, but put them in the same room, and she looks like a friggin' panther!
Ansel's definitely feeding something in me...not sure I've been cross for the last 48 hours. I've been really damn mercurial this year, which I know is part hormones and part other body chemistry stuff, so it's nice to have my head and moods settled a pinch. I'm trying a new supplement, watching my moon cycle so I can supplement it with a tea that's geared to it, and I have a kitten on my shoulder. Life is good!