So Anya said she’d take the kittens, confirmed that she really did want them, then asked me to hold onto them a week longer than I wanted to, then cancelled, well past the last minute. So I called my backup, Yvonne. I’d liked her much better than Anya from the start, but Anya got there first, and I felt I had to be a grown-up about it (and look where that got me). Anyway, Yvonne had looked elsewhere for kittens, and had reached an agreement with someone who turned out to be as selfish and irresponsible as Anya. As we were both left in the lurch by bimbos, I got to give her my kittens anyway, so that worked out nicely. Though it would have worked out nicely-er without the aggravation.
I took them over yesterday, and they seemed fine while I was there, but she says after I left, they went into a corner and started to shake. Which broke my heart just a little, but seriously, the place is kitty Disneyland. Toys and separate litter boxes and separate food dishes and a mom who knows cats and can give the two of them far more attention than they got here. They’ll be happy once they settle in. Oh, and their names are now Chulola (sp?) and Zoe.
And so the kitten interlude is over and we’re back to normal. And I shouldn’t be sad, because they made messes and noises and people keep leaving the TV remote on the couch and the kittens kept walking on it and turning on the TV and they really annoyed Fufu and now we can get rid of the litter box and stop buying five kinds of cat food and it really is better this way, but. Sigh.
Song du jour of the day: Ode to Joy, by Beethoven. And Beaker.