Ignatz woke up this morning with gum on his face. Old gum, from yesterday. I didn’t ask why he waited until this morning to try to remove it (attention parents: peanut butter works) – after thirteen years, you realize just how much you don’t really need to know. Ick.
He had a tae kwon do tournament today, and came home with a new green belt and a second-place trophy. Yay!
It’s my dad’s birthday today. He’d be 61, which is just so hard to imagine. For me he will always be frozen at 45. Sigh.
It’s also Christine’s birthday, and she had a big party. We went over, made awkward conversation for half an hour, and then came home. It was a good party, and they are nice people, but we don’t do all that well around lots and lots of strangers. Ooo! But her two-year-old granddaughter wanted to give me a good-night kiss, and she didn’t want to kiss DrBob. Ha. I win.
Tito left us today. His new owner – a school friend of Ignatz’s – came and fetched him, and Ignatz went along to help him settle in. He seems to be okay, and the others haven’t asked us where he went, so I guess everybody’s coping, but I kind of miss him and his speckly belly. This also makes me realize I’ve been really lax with the kitten pictures and updates.
Jermaine. Well, the others have been growing fast, eating solid food etc, and she has been more and more mommy-focused – well, no, she has stayed mommy-focused while the others grew up. That fall she suffered wasn’t the beginning of this, but it probably didn’t help. She’s fearful, and clingy, and doesn’t purr, and we noticed today that she is significantly smaller than her siblings, and started asking eachother, “have you ever seen her eat solid food?” “no, have you?” So we gave her the icky soft canned kitten food someone gave us as a baby gift, even though we generally don’t believe in the stinky wet mooshy stuff, and she actually ate it, so maybe now she’ll get better. We’ve reserved the rest of the baby cat food for her use (we were given one can per kitten). Anyway, late milestone: Germaine had her first solid food today! We think!
The others are just fine, jumping and climbing and chasing their tails (and each other’s tails). They’re seven weeks old, and just so cute, I keep running through the same thought-cycle: aww, I don’t want them to go… hello, moving? With seven cats? okay, bye now! aww… etc. They will be happy in their new homes, but we will still be sad to see them go.
But no, in case you’re wondering, we won’t do this again. We can’t keep Lilu inside – well, we don’t want to – and I doubt we’d be able to place a litter of kittens born in the fall. It’s generally understood here that spring-born cats are healthier than fall-born cats, a superstition I scoffed at until this year. But Lilu’s a spring cat, and Fufu’s a fall cat, and really, everything that happens happens to Fufu. I mean, we don’t know her background, and she might be more susceptible to illness, but even stuff that should be equally risky for both cats – fleas, worms, that big hole in her arm that had her limping for days – it all happens to Fufu. Weird.
Anyway, that’s the news here, pretty much. I finished proofing DrBob’s manuscript today, so now it’s back to spiffing data for my job. See, you’re not missing anything interesting.
Song du jour of the day: It Hurts, by Lena Philipsson.