I went to the pet store this morning to get some of that bitter apple spray, because I just can’t stand leaving Callie in that cage all day, and I really can’t spend all day sitting in the kitten room keeping an eye on her, and if I let her out to play, I forget she’s out, and then I remember and go running upstairs to check on them, and she looks at me guitily and Smitty’s got a wet penis, and I put her back in the cage, and she looks at me sadly and I feel sorry for her.
It’s a vicious cycle.
If the diarrhea ever resolves itself (things are improving; more on that in a moment), we’ll be able to let the kittens out of the room during the day and they’ll most likely spend most of their time downstairs with me and I can keep an eye on her.
Of course, if we weren’t going to be selling the house in a few years, I’d probably push Fred to have french doors put on both of the doorways leading to the library, and that could be the kitten room, because that would be absolutely perfect.
Anyway. So I went to the pet store this morning with the intention of buying bitter apple spray to dab around Smitty’s penis, so that when Callie next went to do her thing, she’d get a mouthful of nastiness (other than the “kitten penis” nastiness, I mean) and she’d stop doing that. The pet store I always go to didn’t seem to have a bottle of bitter apple spray for cats – the bottle said “for dogs”, and nothing on the label said it was okay for cats, and I know nothing about this, y’all. I had no idea whether the formulation for dogs and cats would be the same or not, so I hemmed and hawed and thought about it, and decided to go to the other pet store just down the street.
Now, this other pet store… how do I say this? I’m amazed they’re still in business, because it’s small and disorganized and it stinks to high heaven. I KNOW, it’s a pet store, what do I expect? But the pet store I always go to, the one where I go and clean cages on Monday mornings, never stinks. And it’s big and bright and well-organized. Anyway, I go to Pet Store 2, walk in, and see that they also have bitter apple, and it’s also labelled for dogs. I look around some more, and find a bottle of stuff named (something like) The Bitterest Thing in the World (that’s not it exactly, but I don’t feel like going upstairs to look at the bottle). It’s made for all kind of animals, including cats. I decide to get that, and go up to the register to pay.
Where the cashier harassed me to sign up for a store card. I say no the first time, and a second later she says “It doesn’t cost anything!”. I smile and say “No, thank you.” again, and a second later she says “You’d save 55 cents!”, and I smile ONCE AGAIN and ONCE AGAIN say “No, thank you”, but only because I’m too nice to say “I don’t care if I’d get the thing for free, I’m not signing up for your savings card, because I never visit your store, and you’re making me wish I never HAD, so SHUT UP.” She gives me a dirty look, finishes the transaction, hands me the receipt, and snippily tells me to have a nice day. I smile and walk out, because I’m too nice to say “Oh, I’ll have a nice day, because I live happy in the knowledge that I’ll never step foot in your store again.”
So anyway, I got home and use a q-tip to apply the spray o’ bitterness to the fur around Smitty’s penis (honestly, if I never have to regard another kitty penis, I’ll be overjoyed) and play with the kittens for a while. They’re bouncing off the walls, running around and playing and being wild, so I figured I had a few hours before I needed to check and see if Callie was doing her thing, so I ran errands, and started writing this entry.
I just went upstairs, where the kittens were laying around sleepily, and checked the area around Smitty’s penis to see if it was wet. It wasn’t, so I considered the bitter experiment a success. Until I sat down, and the kittens all gathered in my lap, piling up on top of each other, and Callie came over and rooted around until she located Smitty’s penis, and the smacking noises began.
So I put her back in the cage for now. I guess later I’ll try applying more bitter spray around his penis and see if that works. If not, I’m either going to have to spend more time in the room with them, or we’re going to have to let them run around the house. I think what we REALLY need is a webcam set up in the kittens’ room, so I can keep an eye on what’s going on in there, but I seem to be the only one who thinks so. Hmph.
As far as the diarrhea situation goes, it seems to be improving. Things aren’t as solid as I’d like them to be, but they’re getting there. Sugarbutt is doing better keeping clean, too. I haven’t had to give him a bath in two days, which is a good thing, since before that he was getting at least one if not two baths a day. He’s not terribly fond of getting a bath, if you hadn’t guessed, and I’m not terribly fond of giving them.
These kittens are just the sweetest things. Over the past week they’ve gone from a little standoffish, to completely loving and snuggly and friendly. Bear, especially, is a little lovebug. At night when I go in the room to hang out with them, and I’m wearing my nightgown, they all gather in my lap, and would probably sleep there all night if I’d let them. They are just SO SWEET.
They could actually go for spaying and neutering now, since they’re all over two pounds, but I’m going to wait until next week to call and make the appointment, because I want to be sure they’re past the diarrhea.
And that’s the state of things in Kittenville.
“So I says to her, I says “Look, you. I’m the boss around these here parts, and if I want you to go pick up my freakin’ dry cleaning and stop along the way to get me a snort of catnip, YOU WILL DO IT.” And then she quit. I don’t care, she spent all her time trying to get with my brother, but he’s got too much taste to deal with the likes of her.”