Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Meet Oliver !
Current Mood : Concerned and wary...
Gave things some thought, and perhaps I'm as guilty as intolerance as anyone else involved with the insanity that seems to be part and parcel of Monster High fandom, so I'm gonna apologize to anyone I upset, and back away from the scene anyway. Either way, sewing will be much better for me than waiting to pounce on new stuff for sale.
Guilty secret : I kind of want to see Abbey Bominable 'in person', so to speak. I like the photos I've seen and the diaries I've read, I just don't know if she'll fit in here. I'm sure I'll find one sooner or later, and go from there.
OK. You're probably here about the kitten. And why I freaked out yesterday. So, here ya go. Dearest Son found a starveling kitten under a car in his grandparents' driveway during his visit this weekend. The little faded-orange sherbet feline actually 'belonged' across the street, to a kid not much older than Dearest. He'd brought the cat home without remembering his mother is epi-pen allergic. If you're unfamiliar with epi pens, they're like one med step above inhalers, and maybe a half-step below adrenaline straight in your heart. My inhaler is a scooter. An epi pen is a tank. Not something to be trifled with. So the poor little thing was still mostly homeless.
But quite clever. He'd found the one place perhaps on the whole street that'd find him a forever inside home - preferably with Dearest. I wasn't too sure, but I gave it a tentative OK, so kitty came home with him yesterday. He wasn't inside 30 seconds before he was out of the pet carrier and in my lap - what a sweetie ! DFIL had other errands to run, so he didn't stay long. Ah, well. I was contentedly petting 'Simba' when a small spot on his brow moved. Horrified, I pulled him off my chest and really looked at this three ounces of kitten...
Who was being eaten alive by fleas. Hundreds of them ! Oh EMmmm GEEEEEE ! We had fleas at our previous address, and it was torture until we got rid of them...I was not going through that again ! I yelled for Dearest to grab the Dawn dishwashing detergent and any bowl he could grab - his cat was getting a bath, NOW !
Three soapings and about six dozen scratches and bites to my hands and arms later, an exhausted Simba was too tired to even protest vocally...but despite the 70 or so fleas that went down the drain, he was still full of them, clinging hard to his belly, legs, shoulders...I vibrated in horror again, grabbed the rinse bowl, added a drop of Dawn to some hot water in it, and took Simba, the carrier, a comb and everything else out to the front porch.
Poor exhausted kitty almost fell asleep as I hand-picked as many fleas as I could. Most were still alive, others clung tight even stunned or dead. Fleas are unique parasites that, even dead, still draw for future flea generations - nasty ! So we had to eradicate every one. I also learned that, once dry, Simba seemed to be at least half longhair. This was not looking good.
Let him recover, with full dishes of water and Meow Mix outside for a while, but when I went to check on him, he was panting hard. Surprisingly, DC was keeping him company outside the carrier. Gave him another short bath followed by more picking - and earned more scratches. He was clearly feeling better. And I'd pulled 43 more, with who knows how many down the drain. (shudddddder)
By now, I'd let Simba go, I was exhausted and it wasn't so hot outside, so we sort of visited. He and DC seemed to get along without the carrier between them. DC had to establish some boundaries, but it was mostly done in yowls instead of claws-out cuffs. Beloved Hubby came home, gave Simba another rinse, and together, we pulled another 20 or 30. There were surely some that got away, but his inside legs and belly weren't black with them anymore, so we brought him inside.
He really is a clever kitty. I showed him the litter box, using the classic front-paws 'raking' technique, and darn if he didn't dig a hole himself when I let go, and used it then and there. Several times more since, poor thing. When he first got here, we couldn't quite tell his gender, he was so small - especially next to DC. Three more bowls of Meow Mix (small ones) and our suspicions were confirmed - Mazel tov, it's a boy ! He quite literally 'dropped' yesterday, in between baths.
So far, I don't seem to be reacting to him, but that may be due to the baths. So we shall see - but he's a sweet and playful kitten, who follows Dearest around adoringly. I got about another dozen off him today, and clearly he's feeling more alert and happy. He purrs at the drop of a caress, but will gently attack feet if they move provokingly. At least he doesn't bite. Just runs up, launches his attack, then runs off.
Oh, and stand by for a potential name-change. We watched Oliver and Company scenes on YouTube this afternoon, so 'Simba' may become 'Oliver'. Whatever Dearest decides on, it becomes final Friday !