OMG KITTENS.
When I was young, all I wanted was a kitten. I had books on kittens and cat care, I wrote stories about kittens, I filled my room with cat memorabilia, cat-themed nick-nacks and replacement-cat cuddly toys. I was a bit of an old cat lady, despite being only nine years old and owning no cats whatsoever.The dream was to one day have a kitten of my very own.
Actually having kittens born in my own home, to have new-born kittens living in my own room, was a impossible dream. I barely even entetained the notion, so certain was I that it would never come about. Now that the nick-nacks and the toys and the books are gone, it is very nice that things have turned full-circle :D
We have three new babies, a very-dark tortoise shell and two little ginger toms. And OMG YAY. They are two days old and so adorable!
The girl is called Dynamite, and was named by mother because she was the first to be born and mostly a shock to her poor mummy-cat. She is pretty feirce - when we first picked her up, she didn't cry but hissed instead - and pretty pretty to the bargain, with a lot of silver-white lines on her black face, and reddy-black patches on her body.
The fat boy is called George, named by my brother because George seems to suit him (though I call him Georgie-Porgie). Though he's the biggest, he's also the wettest by far, wails a lot if you pick him up and usually fails to defend himself from nipple-stealing siblings.
The runty boy is called Rascal, as named by myself because, we have discovered, things often become what you name them and he'll need that rapscallian wit to get through life being a bit smaller than the others. Luckily he's pretty tenatious and fights the others bitterly when they try to get the better of him at feeding time.
Thier mother is my mum's ginger cat Serendipity, who is only about sixteen months old and was a bit useless to begin with, but is doinging lovely now. My sister's laid-back silver tabby Bingo is their uncle. My own british-shorthair/persian Princess hates everything and everyone. Neither Bingo nor Princess nor Sunny (our king charles spaniel puppy) are allowed to see the kittens for fear of what may ensue.
There were four kittens born, though. Basil, named by my mother after her father who died recently, was the second to be born but didn't make it because of Serendipity being inexperienced, or possible complications of being her first litter, or maybe just because it wasn't meant to be. My mum's pretty broken up about it, because she was the only one here when it happened and then carted them all off to the vets and stuff.
But right now we have three healthy kits and one happy-but-a-little-confused mummy-cat, so yee. And omg the cute.
Photos shortcoming!
I'm really tired. It's almost midnight (nearly one am french time) and I have a presentation and an essay to write before tomorrow or I'm thrown out of college. Um, no way. Woe.
ETA: I mean forthcoming, obviously.
Actually having kittens born in my own home, to have new-born kittens living in my own room, was a impossible dream. I barely even entetained the notion, so certain was I that it would never come about. Now that the nick-nacks and the toys and the books are gone, it is very nice that things have turned full-circle :D
We have three new babies, a very-dark tortoise shell and two little ginger toms. And OMG YAY. They are two days old and so adorable!
The girl is called Dynamite, and was named by mother because she was the first to be born and mostly a shock to her poor mummy-cat. She is pretty feirce - when we first picked her up, she didn't cry but hissed instead - and pretty pretty to the bargain, with a lot of silver-white lines on her black face, and reddy-black patches on her body.
The fat boy is called George, named by my brother because George seems to suit him (though I call him Georgie-Porgie). Though he's the biggest, he's also the wettest by far, wails a lot if you pick him up and usually fails to defend himself from nipple-stealing siblings.
The runty boy is called Rascal, as named by myself because, we have discovered, things often become what you name them and he'll need that rapscallian wit to get through life being a bit smaller than the others. Luckily he's pretty tenatious and fights the others bitterly when they try to get the better of him at feeding time.
Thier mother is my mum's ginger cat Serendipity, who is only about sixteen months old and was a bit useless to begin with, but is doinging lovely now. My sister's laid-back silver tabby Bingo is their uncle. My own british-shorthair/persian Princess hates everything and everyone. Neither Bingo nor Princess nor Sunny (our king charles spaniel puppy) are allowed to see the kittens for fear of what may ensue.
There were four kittens born, though. Basil, named by my mother after her father who died recently, was the second to be born but didn't make it because of Serendipity being inexperienced, or possible complications of being her first litter, or maybe just because it wasn't meant to be. My mum's pretty broken up about it, because she was the only one here when it happened and then carted them all off to the vets and stuff.
But right now we have three healthy kits and one happy-but-a-little-confused mummy-cat, so yee. And omg the cute.
Photos shortcoming!
I'm really tired. It's almost midnight (nearly one am french time) and I have a presentation and an essay to write before tomorrow or I'm thrown out of college. Um, no way. Woe.
ETA: I mean forthcoming, obviously.