Nothing moves faster than a sleeping hooman hearing a kitten about to vomit in their bed. Darnley had obviously eaten way too much for his dinner at 10pm the night before and pushing his Mother, Flaire, from her bowl in a bid to guzzle hers down too. Seriously, for an 8 week old kitten, he sure can pack it away! I watch him every meal time and he eats like a kitten possessed.
Momma woke up quick smart, collected up a heaving Darnley, swung her legs out of bed, smashing her feet on the cat post at the end of the bed. Holding a now emptying kitten over her left hand to be sick into, she climbs out of bed, untangling her feet from the scratch post. The watery bit drips through her fingers and onto her bare legs. She can feel it running to her ankle rather than see it, because it it pitch black. He heaves again and with not enough room in her hand she staggers in the pitch black to the hard surface of the kitten pen. She curses, treading on a spring toy which immediately wrapped it's self about her toes. As she flicks her foot to try and dislodge it she cracks her knee on the same scratch post as she heads for the kitten pen! They makes it just in time, ish, for his second hewie which just misses the top of the kitten pen by millimeters and lands squarely on Momma's foot. Well, at least it is not on the carpet!
Then again the poor little soul gives his last two ickies onto well placed bits of kitchen towel this time. Then, he backs away at speed, Momma steadies him whilst walking on her heel to stop the kitten sick getting onto the carpet and wiping her shin at the same time. He is empty - and once the light is on, not much damage really. The extra bit of stolen adult food and some liquid is all.
Momma squished his belly about and gave him some electrolyte water that was all ready made in the fridge and a dollop of vitamin paste for good measure. He just ran about then at 3.56am until the birds began to sing sun rose at 4.43am. Darnley didn't seem at all bothered about his recent emptyage and left Momma wiping and disinfecting herself and the surfaces everything had touched and washing her legs and feet in the sink with a small kitten following her back and forth with pure excitement of something new in the middle of the night.
During all this time, Flaire, Tyga nor I even opened an eye or came to their aid. Nope. Not our problem. God job he was sleeping in Momma's arms and not in the kitten bed with us or we would have been subjected to the bout of watery mess instead. We would have just decamped and moved beds and not said a word until wash day. We think Momma is a hero the way she fumbles through the dark with her useless human eyes and doing the bumblers shuffle from foot to foot sweeping toys from her path. For now, we close our eyes tighter and tighter against the light and tuck our heads under our paws so as not to be disturbed, all the while chuckling at her misfortune.
Then, not two nights hence, Tyga throws a hurl whilst cuddled up with Momma. This time she was unceremoniously plonked onto a feeding mat. We don't know why she was sick? It was just two heaves and watery mush and since then nothing. Only possible explanation is Momma was lazy and gave snax out of Flaire's food that evening and being made from potato, they don't suit every one or she does get very hot snuggled under the blankie? But seriously. Flaire was sleeping on that feeding mat too, she looked indignant and smacked poor Tyga on the head but Momma held her fast. Flaire eventually gave in and moved. Again, it was the crack of dawn and there is nothing worse than being woken for such matters, so I took Darnley into the kitten bed, with Flaire soon following and watched the merry dance in the dark and then the clean up from slitted eyes. Tyga was happy to follow Momma about and feeling much perkier brought her ducky toy to play. No one the worse for wear. Only the poor washing machine!
Of course, because we are rudly awakened so early, it is only right that just a few hours later, we invest our time and energy into waking Momma. The only way to do this is either deliver chocolate gold into the nearest litter tray or begin a good game of chase which starts on the landing, the stairs, then around the kitten room and over a slumbering Momma and now Darnley is 8weeks old, he too can join in. We make sure that each of us that jump over her uses her chest or full bladder as a spring board. She will turn over then making the jump more fun and there is nothing better than bouncing from her shoulder blades or giving her a good scratch on her ribs as we pass. It soon pokes the bear enough into rising and opening the curtains fully. I say fully as we can only do a part job climbing and parting them. Once she stretches and meows like a cat, I race over and stick my sniffer into her yawning mouth and she laughs and then we all fall about sleepily ready to settle for a quicky nap before breakfast.
There is much to be said for a lay in. It is OK for us, we can sleep anytime of day and readily do. However, the fun is watching Momma sloth about for most of the morning cleaning up our nightly doings and setting the feeders for the day, coffee in hand, she opens the office and we are in like rats up drainpipes, to our stations for power naps and pen pinching!
Lots of purrs from your unsickly Queen Vee =^..^=
Momma woke up quick smart, collected up a heaving Darnley, swung her legs out of bed, smashing her feet on the cat post at the end of the bed. Holding a now emptying kitten over her left hand to be sick into, she climbs out of bed, untangling her feet from the scratch post. The watery bit drips through her fingers and onto her bare legs. She can feel it running to her ankle rather than see it, because it it pitch black. He heaves again and with not enough room in her hand she staggers in the pitch black to the hard surface of the kitten pen. She curses, treading on a spring toy which immediately wrapped it's self about her toes. As she flicks her foot to try and dislodge it she cracks her knee on the same scratch post as she heads for the kitten pen! They makes it just in time, ish, for his second hewie which just misses the top of the kitten pen by millimeters and lands squarely on Momma's foot. Well, at least it is not on the carpet!
Then again the poor little soul gives his last two ickies onto well placed bits of kitchen towel this time. Then, he backs away at speed, Momma steadies him whilst walking on her heel to stop the kitten sick getting onto the carpet and wiping her shin at the same time. He is empty - and once the light is on, not much damage really. The extra bit of stolen adult food and some liquid is all.
Momma squished his belly about and gave him some electrolyte water that was all ready made in the fridge and a dollop of vitamin paste for good measure. He just ran about then at 3.56am until the birds began to sing sun rose at 4.43am. Darnley didn't seem at all bothered about his recent emptyage and left Momma wiping and disinfecting herself and the surfaces everything had touched and washing her legs and feet in the sink with a small kitten following her back and forth with pure excitement of something new in the middle of the night.
During all this time, Flaire, Tyga nor I even opened an eye or came to their aid. Nope. Not our problem. God job he was sleeping in Momma's arms and not in the kitten bed with us or we would have been subjected to the bout of watery mess instead. We would have just decamped and moved beds and not said a word until wash day. We think Momma is a hero the way she fumbles through the dark with her useless human eyes and doing the bumblers shuffle from foot to foot sweeping toys from her path. For now, we close our eyes tighter and tighter against the light and tuck our heads under our paws so as not to be disturbed, all the while chuckling at her misfortune.
Then, not two nights hence, Tyga throws a hurl whilst cuddled up with Momma. This time she was unceremoniously plonked onto a feeding mat. We don't know why she was sick? It was just two heaves and watery mush and since then nothing. Only possible explanation is Momma was lazy and gave snax out of Flaire's food that evening and being made from potato, they don't suit every one or she does get very hot snuggled under the blankie? But seriously. Flaire was sleeping on that feeding mat too, she looked indignant and smacked poor Tyga on the head but Momma held her fast. Flaire eventually gave in and moved. Again, it was the crack of dawn and there is nothing worse than being woken for such matters, so I took Darnley into the kitten bed, with Flaire soon following and watched the merry dance in the dark and then the clean up from slitted eyes. Tyga was happy to follow Momma about and feeling much perkier brought her ducky toy to play. No one the worse for wear. Only the poor washing machine!
Of course, because we are rudly awakened so early, it is only right that just a few hours later, we invest our time and energy into waking Momma. The only way to do this is either deliver chocolate gold into the nearest litter tray or begin a good game of chase which starts on the landing, the stairs, then around the kitten room and over a slumbering Momma and now Darnley is 8weeks old, he too can join in. We make sure that each of us that jump over her uses her chest or full bladder as a spring board. She will turn over then making the jump more fun and there is nothing better than bouncing from her shoulder blades or giving her a good scratch on her ribs as we pass. It soon pokes the bear enough into rising and opening the curtains fully. I say fully as we can only do a part job climbing and parting them. Once she stretches and meows like a cat, I race over and stick my sniffer into her yawning mouth and she laughs and then we all fall about sleepily ready to settle for a quicky nap before breakfast.
There is much to be said for a lay in. It is OK for us, we can sleep anytime of day and readily do. However, the fun is watching Momma sloth about for most of the morning cleaning up our nightly doings and setting the feeders for the day, coffee in hand, she opens the office and we are in like rats up drainpipes, to our stations for power naps and pen pinching!
Lots of purrs from your unsickly Queen Vee =^..^=
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