A kitten in the house is a joy. Or so it should be. But when said kitten starts emitting all kinds of foul substances in the house one tends to wonder. Never ever would we ponder to do away with the obnoxious polluter, but we did have to stage one surprise visit to the Man In White and hear the verdict: “yup, worms”. Of course the tell-tale signs were there: bloated belly, rapidly fouling behind which even the kitten himself stopped cleaning because it just became too much work, a very listless and increasingly lethargic kitten… persistent worms and turbo-transit to match. Yech.
What is a Mistress to do ? You can’t really discipline a sad huge-eyed kitty who just can’t help it when his lunch squirts out without any control ? But what you can do is to apply the warm wet washcloth and give the tyke a thorough scrubbing. Then comes the anti-worm paste. Then come the anti-ear mite drops, then you start cooking lunch.
The Mistress was forced to head to the market and score a bag of chickens’ stomachs and some carrots. Said stomachs and carrots were then chopped up into tiny bits, cooked, and sprinkled with an anti-diarrhea medication. The result was given to the ravenous kitten who had to be locked up when the other cats were given their food. Food which had to be locked up lest the little one tried to sample it. In order to get the problem under control we had to turn our hearts into stone and endure the pitiful sight of 7 adult cats staring forlornly at their empty bowls. And the pathetic shrieks of one tiny kitten who had to be locked up in the travel cage when the adults were fed. Poor Frankendrolleke !
He’s doing better now, after 5 days of relentless medicating and grooming. Back to his old rambunctious energize-bunny-esque lively self. Right now he’s lying on my shoulder purring his little head off. The simian shoulder is his favourite spot, which does not exactly endear him to the simians when his behiney is filthy. But it’s nice to have this little furry ball of heat purring away on your shoulder and against your neck when it’s a cold rainy November day. He still weighs next to nothing, which is an added bonus.
And just when you think you have everything under control, another patient turns up.
Bouncing Psycho nearly stumbled over a listless Freya, lying just outside the inner cat-flap. (We have 2 cat-flaps: one giving entrance from the Garden of Chaos to the Verandah of Chaos, the second one giving access from the Verandah of Chaos to the Kitchen of Chaos.) When I picked her up she just went limp. She also felt rather chilly and gritty, nose cold and dry, fur full with sand and staying upright when you pinch part of it, the inside of the mouth pale and dry. NOT GOOD.
When I deposited her next to the water bowl she drank a bit, then scurried under the couch and hid there. Shivering. NOT GOOD AT ALL.
But what can you do ? Wait until the Man In White is receiving, that’s all. And so I positioned myself at my computer to while the time away. Until I noticed a grey shape mounting the cupboard on the left of my desk and beheld Freya installing herself into a lethargic yet shivering puddle of misery in search of some love and cuddles. I grabbed two towels to wrap her in, then offered a small bowl of warm water – which she started to inhale. She needed heat ! And went looking for it, because the cupboard slides under the large desk on which two computers and a printer reside, plus the large rack filled with tons of books. But behind the cupboard is a radiator. The heat it emits can only go three ways… from under my desk, from under Grumpy Man’s desk, and past the cupboard. It’s practically the warmest spot in the House of Chaos ! And Freya, following her instinct to battle the hypothermia, knew what to do.
Fortunately I had some pocket-warmers, little bags with a kind of jelly that hardens and heats when you crease a metal disk that’s in it (chemical reaction). I swiftly slid one of those under Freya’s belly, tucked her a bit more snugly into the towels, and waited. After a while she accepted some stinky goodness and more warm water. She started to purr. The visit to the Man In White was cancelled. And then, crowning achievement, I put little Frankendrolleke next to her and -oh joy oh wonder- instead of growling the tyke into a fleeing panic Freya accepted the extra warmth and let him be.
A situation of which he immediately took the most outrageous advantage by spreading his purring little body all over the adult she-kitty. Kittens….
But what had caused this hypothermia and dehydration ? Judging from the dirt in her pelt and under her chin she must have gotten stuck somewhere, and that for a long time, until she could free herself. She hadn’t been home for a day, that we know. Fortunately it had been unseasonably warm for November, but it had also been dry outside so she couldn’t get any liquids. And now Freya is back to being her old head-butting self… and the CPU gets a head-butt, and my glass of water gets a head-butt, and the new book of Jeremy Clarkson gets a head-butt (and subsequently slides off the cupboard… sigh…)… even Frankendrolleke got a head-butt. See the pile of envelops, booklets and disk cases she’s lying on ? All that got a head-butt and crashed to the floor…
Ach… All is well that ends well.
purrrrrr… what a comfy bed this she-cat makes….. *snuggle*
Yay, weekend again… so it’s time to stop by at the Carnival of the Cats (hosted by Catsynth), Weekend Cat Blogging (hosted by Tabbylicious), the Bad Cats Festival of Chaos (once a month, hosted by Kashim, Othello and Salome), the Cat Blogosphere, and the Friday Ark.