You are powerless against the cute

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.