MR FEZZIWIG continues to be the most adorable thing in the universe. He’s been to the vet and had a checkup and there’s nothing wrong with him. Ev and me have decided to keep him instead of putting him up for adoption because 1) we saved his life and 2) just look at him. Although this means going up to five cats (or possibly down to four if Emric pukes on the bathroom rug again) we feel it’s worth it to give him a safe home.
There are some fun and games with having so young a kitten, though. For starters he wakes up at 3am wanting to be fed and it’s impossible to ignore him because his squeaks are like having a dentist’s drill go off next to your ear. Ev, it must be said, is dealing wonderfully with these nocturnal disturbances, leaving me to catch up much-needed sleep so I can play videogames for five hours every morning before I go to work.
The other “fun” thing about kittens of his age (four weeks) is that they don’t really have control over their bodily functions, meaning that in order to get him to poo we have to rub his bum with a wet paper towel to get him to go. Believe me, you haven’t lived til you’re holding a kitten with very sharp claws at four ends, 100 decibels coming out of the top end and an endless stream of farts and poo coming out of the other. I think he’s even passed Emric in the league table of “how many times can a cat crap in the kitchen sink.”
He’s also a demon for drink, although in his case it’s kitten milk mixed with a bit of baby food. He can get through it like an alcoholic on meths and will regularly down two-thirds of a bottle without pausing for breath. It’s amazing to watch and I’ll have to get the Flip out and record his next marathon feeding session for posterity.