Tiny Tabby on Thursday

Oh boy, do I have my hands full with the Adams litter.  The Washingtons, being sick and under stricter quarantine, waited until they were about three months old to start demanding their freedom.  The Adams babies?  Six weeks old and already regularly escaping the foster room.  They aren't terribly fast yet (yet), but they are learning to hang out near the door so they can saunter through whenever someone enters or exits.

Mini Malibu isn't intimidated one bit by the large dog on the other side of the door.

None of them are.

Four kittens think nothing of squirting through the doorway.  Bentley (the wild child), Shelby, Malibu, and Hudson regularly make it out into the hallway... examining backpacks and dog feet, startling Uncle Norman.  Simba has no idea what to make of their tiny selves.  He's pretty sure he doesn't want them in the hallway, but has yet to trot out his patented "Wow Wow Wow's" (as we refer to his vocalizing to strange cats inside his orbit... see yesterday's post if you missed the video presentation of Simba's mad skillz).

The fifth kitten?  Cruz sits in the doorway pouting and whining to be carried.  Yes, we indulge him.

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Connie is in the enviable position of being able to take her foster kittens to work with her on Fridays.  I love the idea of being able to socialize the kittens to new and potentially scary situations before the dreaded drive to Petco, so when my physical therapist told me yesterday that I should bring the kittens to her office... FIELD TRIP!  Five of them tumbling through a therapy room had me too busy keeping them out of trouble to take photos, but picture Bentley chewing on a cane (to its owner's delight), Hudson nursing on a doctor's hair, Malibu and Cruz wrestling underneath a waiting room chair, and Shelby bossing everyone around while exploring every nook and cranny.  

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Bossy?

"OK, boys... watch Shelby play with the ball spinner."

Yes, she demands an audience... and prefers a non-participating audience.

Why yes, Shelby does rule the foster room.

"BENTLEY!  Shelby is on the cat tree now.  Come back later."

"He's thinking about coming up here, isn't he?"

"SIGH... A princess needs her own special place to sit.  One where she can be uninterrupted by BOYS!"

Interestingly enough, even though each of the kittens easily scale the base of the cat tree, only one has ventured up the pole to the middle shelf.  The identity of that kitten shocked me.  Turns out that meek, mild Hudson is a climber.

On the opposite side of the room from the cat tree is a set of wicker shelves that I use for storing my kitten paraphernalia.  The second shelf from the floor is reserved for old towels.  Apparently, this is the new spot that Shelby has claimed for her pouty princess playhouse.

Note that there are two towels missing from the stack.  One dumped to the side, the other on the floor... brat.

"BENTLEY!!!  This is Shelby's special thinking spot.  Is no place sacred?"

"You should really think about getting down now before Shelby contemplates about doing something dastardly to prove her point."

"BAP!"

Yep, that's all she's got.  She's all talk.  ALL talk.  All talk, all the time.

Our girl is quite the talker.  Every time I walk into the foster room, I count babies.  Each and every time, I count to four and wonder where someone is.  I never have to wonder where Shelby is.  Even when I can't see her, I can hear her peeping at me and telling me how her day is going.

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Dilute calico sister is much quieter (and much less bossy with her brothers).

She will be the star of the show tomorrow.

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UPDATES

Update #1

Our three boys came through their surgical experience yesterday as if nothing happened.  I returned them straight to Petco instead of bringing them home.  They need to be acclimated, relaxed, and happy there in time for Saturday's scheduled adoption event.

They came spilling out of their carriers and immediately began climbing the cage doors to see the girls.  Henry and Baz were... well, Henry and Baz.  Porter acted confident and sure of himself... he's a whole new Porter.  The dog trainer at Petco, who has a chance to observe the kittens regularly, says that Porter has become an entirely different kitten during his few days there.  I'll worry less about him now.

Eloise, while much less afraid of her surroundings, still concerns me a bit.  If I'm not holding her during a visit, she's demanding to be held and comforted.  She purrs in my arms and acts like my sweet baby Eloise.  But as soon as I put her down... well, let's just say that I imagine she's telling me it's time to go home NOW.  It may be just a show just for me, though.  I got a call from Paula while she was at Petco last night.  Every kitten in the joint was tearing around, making a general menace of itself.  Eloise was leading the pack.

Update #2

There is room at Petco for an adult cat.  Our boy Clyde will be moving in later today.  His long hair is counting against him with the potential adopters that I mentioned yesterday.  But I can't imagine striking Clyde needing long to find a family once he's on public display.  This handsome man cat won't be there long.

"It IS difficult being this beautiful, but somehow Clyde will manage it."