Darlin’ Baby Goes Home

It’s time.

The Darlin’ has graduated to the point of weighing enough to be neutered, vaccinated, and re-homed.

He’s been playing with one of the Mother Cat’s babies, who is probably about the same age. His friend is Little Orange with the bad left eye. I’m treating him with medicated ointment applied directly to the eye, per the vet’s recommendations. It’s really not improving as hoped, probably because I just can’t apply the meds twice a day, what with my work schedule.

A plot was hatched.  We took Darlin’ Baby to his new home, and just happened to have Little Orange in a separate crate.

Introductions were made, and then I asked if they would consider taking Little Orange on, just so they could medicate him twice a day & so that Darlin’ Baby could have a playmate.  And if it didn’t work out, I would be happy to take him home, and if there were any doubts RIGHT NOW, Sugar and I would take him home with us.

See if you think this will work out…

 

I love happy endings.

Darlin’ Baby Plays with Friends

We have now arrived at a difficult transitional time.

The Darlin’ Baby has been living in a crate during his babyhood.

He graduated to a guinea pig cage.

Back in the day, when I had 3 rescue guinea pigs, I bought the largest cage available.  This particular one was about $80 from PetEdge.com.  (I know, I know, how shameless that I spent that much on an animal product when there are people starving all over the world.  If they were here, I would feed them, too.)

It was a guinea pig’s dreamworld.  It was super big, maybe 2 feet by 4 feet.  That’s pretty big for a creature that doesn’t do very much.  I added plastic igloos and wooden houses, ’cause guinea pigs like to squeal and hide and hop about a bit, and that added vertical spaces.

Alas, all the piggers have gone on to piggy heaven, but I still have this fabulously large cage.  Large enough for a bed and a litter box and a water bowl and a food bowl.

Just big enough for a Darlin’ Baby to stretch his legs and get fresh air and be safe.  That would be his new night-time home.

During the day, when he wasn’t at work with me, I’d let him out to run and play in a little wooded patch.  He made friends with one of Mama Cat’s babies, who looked remarkably like his twin.

 

Here’s the Darlin’.

Here’s his twin.

Don’t believe me?  Here are the two of them together.

And sometimes, just like people, when animals get overstimulated, they get all cracked-out and crazy.

He ran over to a wood block, which is supposed to be used for supporting a jack stand for the RV and makes for a dandy little bonus cat stand, and clung to the top of it, and looked around like he having hallucinations.

Endorphins much?

Soon, the Darlin’ Baby is going to his new home.  We’ll miss him, but I’ll bet that another one, or six, are making their way here.

Darlin’ Baby Rides Again

To the grocery store, that is.

Some people don’t believe we take the Darlin’ to the grocery store.  They think that I’m mispronouncing PetSmart when I say Publix.  Because a brain cannot hear what it cannot hear.

 

And later he falls asleep on the coffee aisle.  Clearly he needs coffee.  Grocery shopping is boring, as boring as an afternoon math class.  My apologies to all you math teachers.

 

Good parenting.  Teach them young.

Darlin’ Baby Learns to Eat Canned Food

I never, ever, EVER buy canned food for the cats.

NEVER.  It’s a sentence of doom.  Your cat will turn into a bigger, needier, demander.

*****

Jackie:  Where’s my #*!%^@!! canned food?

YoursTruly:  Just a minute, Jackie, I just walked in the door.

Jackie:  Canned food.  Canned Food.  CANNED FOOD, DAMMIT!

YoursTruly:  Now, Jackie, that’s a little greedy.  Please remove your claws from my shoulder, and stop looking me in the face.  You need to brush your teeth.

Jackie:  Aaaaaah!  I’m dying!  I haven’t eaten in one hour!

*****

Multiply that by a number larger than 5.  Granted, I’m not buying canned food still.  I got a huge food donation, and I heard that some cats don’t drink enough water and need the additional moisture in canned food.  Whatever.  Come and get your damn canned food.  I give in.

*****

Darlin’ Baby showed no interest in eating canned food at 4 and 5 weeks.  Then 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 weeks.  This was unheard of.  Cats are crazy for canned food and will start eating it when they are just kittens.

Apparently Darlin’ Baby didn’t get the memo.  Or the phone call.  Or the email.  Or the text or tweet.

I would push canned food into his mouth.  He pushed it back.

I put him on the picnic table at the feeding station with the others milling around eating canned food.  He walked on their plates.

Finally at approximately 12 weeks, he decided that it was time.

Nom.

Nom Nom.

Nommy Nom Nom.

There. Satisfied?

Thank goodness.  He can’t leave here if he doesn’t learn to eat big kid food, and grow big enough to be able to handle anesthesia to get neutered.

‘Cause I highly recommend the neutering of all males.

Moving on now.

Darlin’ Baby Goes to the Grocery Store

I take Darlin’ Baby everywhere in a crate, even the Publix grocery store.

After we finish our shopping, we drive to a nearby shady area and have our lunch.  We let the darlin’ out of his crate so he can visit with us in the front seat.

 

And the following week we do the same thing.

 

People say to me, “You’re going to keep him, aren’t you?  How can you give him up?”  I reply that my job is to just get him through the rough start of his life, and that another kitten will come along that needs help, too, after the Darlin’ has moved on.

But don’t think that I don’t get a lot of pleasure out of it.

Darlin’ Baby Goes to Visit Sugar

So I’m carrying the Darlin’ around in a crate.  Sometimes I go see Sugar, and this means the Darlin’ must go, too, ’cause everybody loves Sugar.

Darlin’ Baby is still not eating canned food, and by this time he’s about 8 weeks old.  He should have started eating yummy soft food by 5 weeks, but he doesn’t know about that law of averages.  Clearly he’s not going to major in math.  He loves his ba-ba, and boy, am I going through some kitten formula.  (My formula of choice is KMR – Kitten Milk Replacer – thankyouforasking.)

He still doesn’t know how to retract his claws.  He’s a slow learner, so he fits in well with me.  But he does know how to scream for his ba-ba.

Soon we’re off to the grocery store, all three of us.  Because he’s been carried around his whole life and spent a lot of time being handled, he’s *great* in a crate.  He walks in his crate like a little child loves a blanket fort.

He’s the baby-est baby.