Twenty-Three! Aka, the year of the furball.
Yesterday was my birthday-proper, and it was just me and Cory (though I did see Shake and Kate for a bit which was nice)! I woke up to cute notes from my honey, and zomgEXCITEMENT, because even though I turned an odd number (twenty three, in case the subject line was not a clue), I was getting a KITTEN.
After a brief setback after discovering the shelters-proper were closed for Easter Monday, a little poking around the internets (lead by good 'ol mister google), I discovered a rescue home in Mississauga, and the lady was looking to clear out her girls so she could have room to take in a sizeable batch of rescues from the shelters as unadopted pets are going to be euthanized by the april 16th deadline before the shelters all close for a few weeks.
When Cory got done classes (early no less!) we headed out after a quick lunch, and made the trip first out to Yonge&Eglington for all the kitten essentials, and then out to Missasauga past where the ttc goes.
There is no other reason to go to Missasauga other than a really cute kitten. Misha, Mandi, please do not move out there! It is very far, and desolate, and I think there may be bears! The kind that like to easy sassy-dutch ladies and awesome Russian chefs! You'd be in so much danger!
Ahem. Anyhow.
We get there, and though I know there is a very cute, very tiny little all-black runt, I know she is longhaired (potentially), and that Cory has hardline said 'no longhaired cats.' So...we get in to the room, and I start eyeing a very shy but playful short haired tabby, when I feel something poking my foot. This exceptionally tiny little black cat is just standing there, very softly mewing and tapping my foot so I will look down at her.
I scoop her up and she cries for a few seconds before she starts nuzzling against my neck and settling herself surprisingly steadily, and comfortably on my shoulder. Where she proceeds to start purring.
Cory is standing on watching all of these kittens with the look of a man who has been bitch-slapped by an overabundance of cute. He just kept staring for a few seconds before going "I, I didn't know they came so tiny!" Ladies and Gentleman, my man, who has always forsaken cats, took one look at this black ball of fluff and busted out his camera. I could not believe my eyes, less than thirty seconds after entering that room, not only my, but his, choice was made up. This snuggly, incredibly calm-but-vocal little ball of fluff was going to come home with us!
Normally in situations like that, I get anxious, worrying about all the other kittens who aren't getting adopted, but as we settled on our choice, the woman came in to inquire about our decision and smiled, scooping up our girl's sister, happy to announce she'd just finish placing the whole lot!
She is tiny, but otherwise perfectly healthy. We have her vet-records from her first check up, and she has no health complications other than being a bit underweight. She wasn't able to get vaccinated with the rest of her litter because she doesn't have enough meat on her bones yet! We just need to make sure she gets KMR (kitten milk replacement) one a day for the next few weeks and by May we'll be able to take her in for her shots (which were covered in cost of adoption! along with some food, her health records, and six weeks of free pet insurance which we will get a discount on so long as we remember to renew before the trial runs out!). The woman didn't quite believe the lady whom surrendered my girl and her sister to her about their age, so both she, and the furball's vet believe it's entirely possible she's not a small 8 weeks, but a spunky six - yet another reason for extending how long she's getting kitten milk.
Anyhow, I've rambled on enough. You don't want to hear about her personality, or the quirks we're discovering. You want your ZOMGCUTE, hard, fast, and with no talking!
I was not kidding or exaggerating about her sleeping on my head. What's better is that she got there without any help from my shoulder.
I love her already for shielding me from more pictures with her adorableocity.
I have never, ever had the thinnest fingers, though they can do shit on the piano you punks wouldn't believe! However, her tinyness makes me look like a giaaaant.
My Scabies Plush Microbe (which is 6 by 4 by 4 inches for your scale reference) facing off against the furball.
Furball Sleeps, well aware that she is too cute to ever get the Mange.
Here she napped to have the energy to wake Cory and I both up multiple times in the Night. Nothing before has ever been so cute that I was not angry to be roused from my sleep. Nothing.
P.S.
Just for the record, Cory squeaks and says "OH MY GOODNESS YOU HAVE TO SEE WHAT SHE IS DOING," just as much as I do. Do not let his cool facade and five o'clock shadow fool you, he is her bitch. If you do not believe me, come over to our house. I will show you the "ramp" he fashioned for her at the end of our bed so she can get up and down as she pleases in case she gets lonely, cold, or snuggly in the night. It is made out of pillows, and a fuzzy blanket covering all the different steps (she wouldn't go near it as steps, but the blanket makes it all look like one ramp, and that she can handle) so that the furball would not hurt herself on her way up or down.
P.P.S. We have not named her yet. Nothing has stuck quite right. Cory likes Lucy, but I find it to be a little too...zounds. Plus, and only you other UW'ers will get this, if we named her that I'd constantly be expecting her to say "Shoooot," and then spit. I sort of like Coraline, Mrs. Bones, and Uhura or Nyota. Problem being while they are all good names, I don't know if any of them are -her- name yet.
After a brief setback after discovering the shelters-proper were closed for Easter Monday, a little poking around the internets (lead by good 'ol mister google), I discovered a rescue home in Mississauga, and the lady was looking to clear out her girls so she could have room to take in a sizeable batch of rescues from the shelters as unadopted pets are going to be euthanized by the april 16th deadline before the shelters all close for a few weeks.
When Cory got done classes (early no less!) we headed out after a quick lunch, and made the trip first out to Yonge&Eglington for all the kitten essentials, and then out to Missasauga past where the ttc goes.
There is no other reason to go to Missasauga other than a really cute kitten. Misha, Mandi, please do not move out there! It is very far, and desolate, and I think there may be bears! The kind that like to easy sassy-dutch ladies and awesome Russian chefs! You'd be in so much danger!
Ahem. Anyhow.
We get there, and though I know there is a very cute, very tiny little all-black runt, I know she is longhaired (potentially), and that Cory has hardline said 'no longhaired cats.' So...we get in to the room, and I start eyeing a very shy but playful short haired tabby, when I feel something poking my foot. This exceptionally tiny little black cat is just standing there, very softly mewing and tapping my foot so I will look down at her.
I scoop her up and she cries for a few seconds before she starts nuzzling against my neck and settling herself surprisingly steadily, and comfortably on my shoulder. Where she proceeds to start purring.
Cory is standing on watching all of these kittens with the look of a man who has been bitch-slapped by an overabundance of cute. He just kept staring for a few seconds before going "I, I didn't know they came so tiny!" Ladies and Gentleman, my man, who has always forsaken cats, took one look at this black ball of fluff and busted out his camera. I could not believe my eyes, less than thirty seconds after entering that room, not only my, but his, choice was made up. This snuggly, incredibly calm-but-vocal little ball of fluff was going to come home with us!
Normally in situations like that, I get anxious, worrying about all the other kittens who aren't getting adopted, but as we settled on our choice, the woman came in to inquire about our decision and smiled, scooping up our girl's sister, happy to announce she'd just finish placing the whole lot!
She is tiny, but otherwise perfectly healthy. We have her vet-records from her first check up, and she has no health complications other than being a bit underweight. She wasn't able to get vaccinated with the rest of her litter because she doesn't have enough meat on her bones yet! We just need to make sure she gets KMR (kitten milk replacement) one a day for the next few weeks and by May we'll be able to take her in for her shots (which were covered in cost of adoption! along with some food, her health records, and six weeks of free pet insurance which we will get a discount on so long as we remember to renew before the trial runs out!). The woman didn't quite believe the lady whom surrendered my girl and her sister to her about their age, so both she, and the furball's vet believe it's entirely possible she's not a small 8 weeks, but a spunky six - yet another reason for extending how long she's getting kitten milk.
Anyhow, I've rambled on enough. You don't want to hear about her personality, or the quirks we're discovering. You want your ZOMGCUTE, hard, fast, and with no talking!
I was not kidding or exaggerating about her sleeping on my head. What's better is that she got there without any help from my shoulder.
I love her already for shielding me from more pictures with her adorableocity.
I have never, ever had the thinnest fingers, though they can do shit on the piano you punks wouldn't believe! However, her tinyness makes me look like a giaaaant.
My Scabies Plush Microbe (which is 6 by 4 by 4 inches for your scale reference) facing off against the furball.
Furball Sleeps, well aware that she is too cute to ever get the Mange.
Here she napped to have the energy to wake Cory and I both up multiple times in the Night. Nothing before has ever been so cute that I was not angry to be roused from my sleep. Nothing.
P.S.
Just for the record, Cory squeaks and says "OH MY GOODNESS YOU HAVE TO SEE WHAT SHE IS DOING," just as much as I do. Do not let his cool facade and five o'clock shadow fool you, he is her bitch. If you do not believe me, come over to our house. I will show you the "ramp" he fashioned for her at the end of our bed so she can get up and down as she pleases in case she gets lonely, cold, or snuggly in the night. It is made out of pillows, and a fuzzy blanket covering all the different steps (she wouldn't go near it as steps, but the blanket makes it all look like one ramp, and that she can handle) so that the furball would not hurt herself on her way up or down.
P.P.S. We have not named her yet. Nothing has stuck quite right. Cory likes Lucy, but I find it to be a little too...zounds. Plus, and only you other UW'ers will get this, if we named her that I'd constantly be expecting her to say "Shoooot," and then spit. I sort of like Coraline, Mrs. Bones, and Uhura or Nyota. Problem being while they are all good names, I don't know if any of them are -her- name yet.