Good thing the kitten isn’t a child, because I found it this morning while walking the dogs… sitting in her crate in the yard… ants everywhere… slightly wet. The sounds that came out of that furry little body were mournful… and loud. Apparently she was too loud for ‘Mommy’ to sleep comfortably.

So, I enlisted Ding to help bring the crate in and I fed the baby, put her little litter box in the bathroom and she’s doing fine. ‘Mommy’ is still asleep. [sigh] With an entire garage at her disposal, the baby had to go outside? Where’s the sense in that? And what if I hadn’t found her for quite some time?? Would she have baked in the sun while ‘Mommy’ slept?
I am angry.

The good news is: no scratching the furniture since bringing in the scratching devices and cleaning the areas she had marked.

I gathered up the weiner dog and drove us both to the nearest PetsMart this morning, where I purchased a new toy and collar for her and scratching thingies for the kitten. That little beastie will not rend a 2,000 dollar chair; I don’t care how cute she is. She could wear gold nipple rings and dance the hula; she would never be cute enough or worth enough.

She’s not mine, you see. I’m not going to have her declawed; she does not belong to me. Well, neither do I possess enough funds to throw around on things like ripping cat’s claws from their hands. If her ‘mommy’ wants to do it, fine. I’m in. I’ll even drive her to the damn vet.
Not fucking paying for it.

The 29 year old cat mommy is a different story. For now.