Kittens are a dream. They are cute, energetic, cute, unbalanced, crazy and cute. But they're not always cute...
Remember a full nights sleep? Falling asleep, dreaming of the brewing coffee in the morning? Remember being awoken by the soft chatter of birds mauling worms in the morning? Forget it. You've just got a two month old kitten who's never been alone before. He's going to need to be within line of sight of your face the entire night, cause if he isn't, he will cry. He's clingy, and wants to push his nose up inside your nose as far as possible. Yep, that's right. at 4am. I even prepared a selfie of him in the act.
Plus, this perfectly innocent and cute cuddles at 6am may include the poor kittens back feet being covered in cat poop and kitty litter, resulting in the quick and unceremonious changing of the sheets at 4am. (I was asked, while I relayed the story to Shelby, as to why I didn't go sleep on the couch. Honestly, I have no idea)
Having grown up with cats, I claim that I thought I was prepared for one. I thought I knew how to raise a cute little kitten from 2 months, to the old and tender age of my parents cat who's running on 18 years right now. Nope. I have been in for plenty of nights of intense clawed cuddling, cleaning up cat poop off kitten paws, and cat jerk tendencies.
The first few nights of having little Atticus was pure hell. A lot of emotions were running around my mind; I had just left a job that I loved everyone I worked with, but wasn't getting the motivational push to pursue anything, I was dealing with those motivational lackings, and poor Atticus looked just like a cat I had with my parents that had passed away suddenly a few months prior. So we're all just going to look over the fact that I was already emotionally unstable and mentally stressed.
Then I got a little thing that breathed and I had to take care of it.
He cried and mewed so much. If I wasn't in constant view of him day or night he cried. If he somehow wandered to the foot of my bed, or god forbid, the FLOOR, he would cry and cry, searching for me, waiting until I called for him. As soon as he got to within pouncing range of my face, he would go quiet, and... pounce. Then he would dig his nose into my neck, finding the warmest spot, and cuddle there for a bit, then cry, then sleep. All night I had to deal with that, until 5 or 6am when he would finally wake up for good. Queue that for 3-4 nights before I politely asked and forced Shelby to spend the night on the futon with him, while I locked my bedroom door and cranked the fans onto high.
It's still be a while since I've woken up later than 6:30-7am, which I guess is good. Early to bed... early to rise.....
Atticus Poopy-Foot Crosby. His middle name is obvious once you realize that he had some stress poop, up until almost he was 3 months old. A ton of antibiotics and a good kitten biscuit diet fixed that. But man, the fear of him jumping onto the bed, or you with that foot covered in you know what was just too much. I'm so glad he's gotten over whatever was going on. That poor guy. He knew it was a problem, and when it happened he'd either rush to you or just cry until I came over to wipe his foot off. I think thats why he is so attached to me. We have the unbreakable bond of poopy-foot cleaning. Though Shelby's had her time cleaning his foot too, Addy and I remember that first time, 3am, washing off his foot in the sink. He didn't even try to get away from the water, he just let out his little kitten mew, and I washed that little foot.
|This one always makes me laugh "Nappers"|
|This is his "I heard you come home but I was napping" look|
Where was I?
Oh yeah, enjoy your new cat... though you'll yell at them, chuck them off you when you're mad, and accidentally scare them. They will love you and find whatever whey they know to show you love. It might be as little as not biting you as hard as everyone else, or being the biggest cuddler in the world.