The Tiniest Feline

In a moderately frustrating turn of events, it’s looking more and more likely like Princess Pumpkin Spook will either A) become a forever foster at my house or B) become a foster failure. All my co-workers who expressed interest have rescinded said interest. (She was found in a generator at work, hence why my coworkers had first dibs.) I tried to offload her onto a friend who fell in love, but she can’t take her. I still have a shot at convincing my parents they need a kitten, though.

I’m not opposed to keeping her, mind you. It’s just I tried really hard to convince myself I wouldn’t. But then, maybe Feline Fate has something different in mind. The other night, I was convinced she had chosen me as her human. She crawled up in my bed in the middle of the night and fell asleep on top of me. And I woke up enough to realize she was there and thought “Well, shit.”

She is the most precious nugget though. My friends came over last Friday and she cuddled with them for a solid four hours straight, not even pausing to go eat or use the litter box. None of the FLBs have ever done that with anyone, not even me. So maybe she is destined to stay with me and cuddle with everyone who comes into my home. I don’t know.

I took her to the vet yesterday to get her checked out and get her first round of shots. She weighs 2.4 pounds and is 9 weeks old–3 weeks older than I expected! My vet assigns a probable birthday to every kitten they age, so Pumpkin and my dad almost share a birthday; hers is August 28, and his is August 31. She is FIV negative, which is AWESOME. Unfortunately, she does have a spot of ringworm on her toe and keeps licking off the medicine. I think she’s going to need a cone of shame for that. I freaked out last night because one of her eyes was weeping badly and I quarantined her from the boys in case she had an upper respiratory infection. I cried and cried to think of her alone in the spare bedroom, but it was better to have one potential URI temporarily sad than to have four. I did a little reading online, and it turns out that some cats have an allergic reaction to the feline leukemia vaccine. I checked on her this morning and her eye seems much, much improved, so I think that’s all it was. I’m not overly concerned with her passing on ringworm to the boys (or to, uh, me) because she’s under treatment for it now and the big boys don’t really bother her. Thor likes to tackle her, but I might be able to ward that off if I put the cone of shame on her.

Whew. Pet ownership is hard work but so incredibly worthwhile. I can’t imagine not having them in my home. This is all such a far cry from when my roommate and I adopted Winston right after college and I cried the next day with adopter’s regret. I wouldn’t trade him–or any of the others–for anything. They really are family to me. Plus, it’s a joy to come home to soft nuzzles and purrs. They always cheer up my sad days.

Get yourself a pet if you have depression. It’ll change your life.

Per aspera ad astra,



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