Teach a Cat to Fish and He'll Cuddle

It is my birthday today and funnily enough, I forgot this. Yes, in birthday month, a month of rolling celebrations and treats to celebrate Me, I woke up this morning, having forgotten it was my birthday. I dragged myself out of bed (though knackered from yesterday's excess as a Pirate and too much sun and cider at the seaside) and began the morning feeding and playtime. Mr Findingmoxie came in from his shower and wished me a happy birthday and only then, did the penny drop. I was elbow deep in litter tray maneuvers. On my birthday. I had to laugh, because honestly, in all birthday month celebrations, I would not have included looking after six kittens with digestive issues. Fair enough, six adorable kittens who adorably adored me, yes, I had imagined that.

Scout, with his new love.

I actually had imagined they'd be so far along  by now that I could fit tiny little birthday hats to their heads. Because that worked so well with my last set of kittens (just imagine wrestling one hat onto a kitten, turning  to the other, wrestling the second into a hat, only to see that the first kitty had chewed his off. Don't ask me how many repetitions they and I endured before we gave up. Sorry, Roomie Scraps, guess you'll never know how much Oregon, Dakota and I loved you on your birthday).

What I have gotten instead, are six kittens with the squirts. I know, TMI. I'll keep it brief. What you should know is that kittens can make the most hilariously appalling fart noises (which, I'd NEVER heard before and couldn't help but laugh helplessly, even while I was freaking out). Seriously, tiny kitten, loud farting. And they looked so embarrassed, the little darlings. But this required a trip to the vets--me, not them, thank God--for medicine and special sensitivity food. If you're a pet owner, there is nothing that probably terrifies you more than hearing 'tablets,' especially if it involves being shoved down six little throats with sharp little sets of teeth.

The equivalent of tossing the old pigskin around.

Mr Findingmoxie was not prepared to dread this as much as I was. After all, to him, they're just kittens. I, however, dreaded from the benefit of past experience. I occasionally had to give tablets to cats at the shelter and it was always a trial--even with Martin, the toothless old cat. Girding my loins, I set about starting with the easiest kitten, Scout. After much wriggling, I had yet to even find Scout's mouth. Oy. This was going to be a mission impossible. Mr Findingmoxie and I put our heads together, plotting and glancing furtively at the kittens. They were none the wiser, the little sillies. We tag-teamed them. That's right. I picked them up, Mr Findingmoxie held them immobile, I wedged their tiny teeth open a crack and shoved the tablet in, stroking their throat for the final swallow.

Let me tell you something, kittens are sly. They will submit eventually, hold still and make like they've swallowed it, and only when you release your hold the tiniest bit, they will spit it out. Some were easy and gave up after a few seconds; some, like Atticus, played the long game and held the tablet on his tongue for five minutes. Believing we'd won, we loosened our hold and he spat it out. Five minutes! Boo Radley, who we had to swaddle in a towel to keep still, however, was simply hilarious. At this stage, I could tell by the look on his face that he was playing us like Atticus. So, I decided to call his bluff. I offered him a crunchy treat that he loves so much. You all should have seen his face then. He opened his mouth eagerly, took the treat, remembered the tablet and just froze with the treat half out of his mouth--while he tried to decide how he was going to get out of this one. His thoughts were plain on his face. Do I swallow the hated tablet for the pleasure of the treat or do I drop the treat and spit the tablet out? But then they'll KNOW I haven't swallowed the tablet. Wait. Be cool. Be cool. He finally gave up, grudgingly, and swallowed both.

I cannot even explain the immense sense of accomplishment both Mr Findingmoxie and I felt. We were never on team sports, so maybe this is what all the fuss is about. But we had to high-five. Really. It was that good. About as good as finishing a Faulkner novel (Absalom, Absalom, I'm looking at you). We were both truly excited that they hadn't bitten us or scratched us. They are definitely not mean or aggressive kitties--just taking it slow with big people love. On that win, we went out to dine on steak and gin for my birthday.


And this morning, to honour my birthday, my lovely little kittens have finally relaxed enough to nap outside of the pen. As you know, for the last week, every time they've been let out, they have run amok. Even when they're woozily weaving on their feet from exhaustion, they would still amok. They would then become toddlers who missed nap-time, chasing each other, knocking everything over, biting and fighting in tired rage--general tantrum throwing. I'd finally have to put them back in the pen for some needed rest and they would all drop off immediately. It was frustrating and funny to see. I knew that if they realised being out of the pen could be relaxed without crazy running around for all they're worth, they would socialise faster. And frankly, we'd get cute cuddly kitties, which is precisely what all my little angels chipped in to get me this year for my birthday. I had a magical half hour on the sofa with six dozing kittens--not more than 2 feet away from me! Poor Mr Findingmoxie, because he's going to have to pull something out of a hat to trump that gift.