Yesterday afternoon I was hanging out in the room with the kittens, rubbing bellies and kissing little heads and just generally having a good time, when Snoopy, who’d been attacking my feet (these cats have a real thing for feet and the attacking of) got a strange look on his face. He backed away from my foot, thought for a moment, and then walked toward the corner of the room which is located behind the door.
And then DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID? He climbed INTO the small litter box which was located as close to that corner as I could get it, and he hunkered down, and he BEGAN TO POOP.
Y’all, I was so proud, I about burst.
Then I noticed that Snoopy was having some problems. I don’t know if he was constipated or what, but he climbed back out of the litter box and the poop didn’t stay behind IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I watched him, and he wandered around with a somewhat pained look on his face, so I picked him up and put him in one of the big litter boxes and rubbed his belly, then squeezed him gently, in hopes that that would help coax the rest of the poop from his poor little system.
What? WHAT? Oh, shut up. Constipation is hard enough if you’re an adult; if you’re a month-old kitten, I’m sure it’s about excruciating, because you don’t know WHAT is going on. I was just trying to help.
Snoopy hunkered down again, and he gave me a look as if to say “What is going on here, woman?”, and then he started to climb out of the litter box, and I said “Momma, are you going to HELP THAT POOR BOY?”, and she looked at me disinterestedly, and I had to leave the room, because if I had to watch that poor baby walk around the room with an inch of poop sticking out, I don’t know what I would have done.
When Fred got home from his hike half an hour later and headed upstairs to change his clothes, I asked him to look in on the kittens and let me know if there was poop everywhere, because I needed to know whether or not to take a bucket of warm water and lots of rags to clean up poop the next time I went in there.
He reported back that there was no poop to be seen, and Snoopy had not a smidge of poop on him anywhere.
After dinner, I went back up to do some more visiting. The kittens were wild last night, jumping on each other and biting, then jumping on me and biting, and running around and jumping some more. While I was holding Flossie (whom I have taken to calling “Miz Flossie”, big shock), I looked up to see Snoopy walking toward the litterbox with purpose in his step. He climbed into the litterbox, hunkered down, and pooped with no problem at all. While he was doing his business, Peanut climbed in next to him, looked him over, and I swear I saw a little light bulb go on over his head.
Ten minutes later, Peanut climbed into one of the big litter boxes, peed, ate a piece of litter, and climbed back out to attack one of his brothers.
This morning, Flossie peed in the litter box.
It appears that they’re getting the hang of it, THANK GOD.
Paws up, y’all!
I don’t know what you said to Peanut, but I don’t think he appreciated it.
“Oh! ‘Scuse me!”
Grumpy little face.
Fight! Fight!
Edgar and the Crazy Eyes.
Sweet Miss Flossie.