Wrong Species

As you have already seen, my softhearted (and softheaded) husband brought home a 3-4 week old kitten he found yesterday. The dust has settled and I am no longer trying to decide if I want to cuddle a kitten more than I want to wring Dave's neck.

The kitten won but only barely.

I am a new nursing mother again. I am well equipped to cope with this job having done it three times before. And pretty much like a human baby, Hermione is a moving, breathing, (loudly) mewing appetite. However I have found there are some crucial differences between species.

I find those films where they show a dog nursing a kitten, or a cat nursing a squirrel absolutely adorable. I'm all for inter-species fostering, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Kittens teeth are like little needles. Ain't coming anywhere near me with those things!

Furthermore, I will never ever complain about changing a diaper again. Did you know that you have to rub their little bums to make them go? I was growing concerned by Hermione's lack of, er, solid waste so I called the kitty pediatrician (A.K.A. our vet). I was told to vigorously stimulate her bottom with a warm wet towel.

Apparently cats lick their kitten's booty until it makes them do their thing.

I'm sorry but THERE I draw the line.