6-28-19 Friday

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Have you ever had kittens with such big bellies? I don’t remember the Half-Pints looking that chubby. Is it healthy? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s adorable, but at times I wonder if that’s a normal condition.

If they weren’t acting like normal kittens (playing like crazy, eating, pooping), I’d be worried. As it is, I think it’s a reaction on their part to being partially starved for an unknown amount of time, since Margeaux wasn’t producing milk. They’ve been dewormed (which would be my first guess; they’re currently on their second round of deworming) and a vet looked them over and pronounced them healthy. I think the bellies will go away as they get older.

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If Margeaux is not the mother of these kittens, I’m curious as to why she is still with you and not at Petsmart up for adoption?

and

Just wondering, if Margeaux is NotTheMother and isn’t producing milk, how long will she stay with you, Robyn, before she is spayed and up for adoption?

I partially answered the first comment on Wednesday with this:

Oh, if it were up to me, Margeaux would have been spayed and on her way 4 weeks ago, as soon as we realized she wasn’t producing milk. But Forgotten Felines is flooded with cats/kittens right now, so I don’t know when that’ll happen. She’s good company for Katriane, at least.

But, of course, there’s more to the story.


A surprisingly flattering angle.

Yep. I’m not thrilled about this, but Margeaux is pregnant. (She did not get pregnant while here, I’m sure you already know that every adult male here is neutered.) A cat’s gestation period is 58 to 65 days and she’s been here for 30 days as of yesterday. She looks very pregnant now and has quite the waddle to her walk, but I haven’t seen movement yet. All I can say for certain is that we’ve got less than 35 days to go. My gut says 1 – 2 more weeks, but my gut is wrong with a stunning regularity. She looks very pregnant, but as Fred pointed out she hasn’t hit that huge, uncomfortable-looking point yet.

So that’s what’s going on there. (She’ll remain MargeauxNotTheMama ’til she gives birth, then I suppose she’ll be MargeauxWasn’tTheMamaButSuprise!NowSheis.)

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We get a monthly box of toys from MeowBox (that is not an affiliate link and I get nothing if you follow it and sign up – I’m just sharing the love), and when I opened the box yesterday, I found to my amusement that their theme for this month was very fitting.


It’s a Paris-themed box! (Yes, I need to update our cats with MeowBox. I’m not sure how I got Khal in there, but forgot Dewey. Sorry, Dewey.)

(By the way, if you ever see what looks like a great big poop in the middle of the foster room floor, it’s this Silvervine Sausage from a previous box. The kittens love that thing.)


“We not want any cheese and wine, lady. We tryin’ to sleep.” (Amelie & Francois)


The stuffed Eiffel Tower toy is cracking me up.


And then I died. A beret. Antoine in a beret. And loving it, clearly.


The beret, sliding off Francois’s head.


Very French, Francois.


Esmee (left) and Jacques wanted none of this nonsense.


Sleepy meezers.

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Frankie can usually be found inside the screened porch, but this day he decided he needed to be flopped down in the sun. He slept like this for the longest time, then I was worried he’d get a sunburn, and went out, woke him up, and brought him inside.

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Previously
2018: He is outraged VERY often.
2017: Girls and their toys.
2016: “I know Uncle Dennis is acting like he wants a hug, but I will not fall into his trap!” thinks the very wise Webster.
2015: And Jake was loonily smug.
2014: Here at Crooked Acres, we like to do all our important cleaning on Saturday, and we make the kittens do the same.
2013: (Or, more accurately: “Hodor Hodor Hodor Hodor!”)
2012: “Dis my OTHER favorite place to sleep. A man’s gotta have options.”
2011: Pile of McMaos.
2010: If that’s not the epitome of abject misery, I don’t know what is.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: “So, I says to her, I says ‘Look. You want to pet me. I don’t want you to pet me. Your love burns my soul.”
2006: No entry.
2005: “Momma, your feet stink.”

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