The Kittens of Discontent

LovesHerDog (heceforth known as Fatty, which is more accurate and easier to type), is, I think, essentially a lonely person. She appears to never go out with friends, often falls asleep in front of the DVD player in her free time, has just bought herself a Wii – and has no one come over to play with it with her except her 5-year old niece that she was babysitting - and for her birthday about two months ago, had a party which appeared to be mostly attended by her family and the South African’s (my other housemate who has not gotten any attention on this blog, deserving though he is of it) friends. I asked her what happened to her friends whom she said would be attending, and she told me that they'd all been done in by a bad bout of gastro.(Because, presumably, they'd all gone out together and gotten it. And she hadn't been there. Uh huh). I left it alone because with these kinds of things, it's kinder to just shut up and nod.

Recently, Fatty has indulged in classic Fat Lonely Single Person behavior – she's adopted two kittens, against the fervent misgivings of everyone in her family. Not that I'm ever against people adopting kittens, or that there's a mathematical formula that equates kitten adoption to loneliness, or obesity, or singlehood. But under the excessive-sleeping-no-friends-only-family-bought-a-Wii-and-watches-way-too-many-DVDs circumstances, it's a death knell for a non-pitiful state of being. So I supported her when she asked if I minded if she got them, because, hey, you don't kick a peron when they're down (unelss you really don't like them and you know ther will be no repercussions. Then I'm all for it.)

Problem is, they were only 4 weeks old when we got them, and she's gone and left them alone without enough food or water a whole bunch of times. (I'm smack in the middle of the exam period so I've been hibernating at home, and every day I hear a lot of pathetic mewing, and I've had to stop what I was doing and feed them.) I spent a rather significant part of my conversation with The Other Cat in a rant last night about how Fatty also doesn't wash their bowls or clean their litter tray often enough, has already tried to already put them on kibble even though they're too young for it because she's trying to save money, allows her dog to eat the kittens' food and allows the kittens to eat her dog's food (a huge no-no since that means they're not getting the nutritional requirements they need at a critical growing stage), didn't buy them a litter tray before they first came (choosing instead of buy a cheapass toy which they were much too young for, and which broke the day after she bought it anyway) and hasn't provided them with a scratching post. I've mentioned to her several times that she hasn't put down enough food and that she cannot allow her dog access to their food and vice versa, all of which, naturally, falls on deaf ears. I can't push the issue because I'm sure we'll get into a massive fight.

But because this is my blog, I get to rant and let off some steam. It's simple. I don't care if you're busy or if you have psychological issues or if you need a sop for your loneliness. Getting a pet comes with responsiblities, and if you can't fulfill those responsibilites, then don't fucking get a pet, let alone have three. I know I'm a generally intolerant, impatient person, but people not giving their pets the care they deserve flicks my Hulk-Angry switch even more easily than most things. Because they are in the same house as me, I wind up feeling like they're responsibility as well, so I find myself washing their bowls and feeding them, even though it's not my job, simply because I can't bear standing by and knowing it won't bloody get done. It. Drives. Me Fucking. Crazy.

But there are consolations, especially when the kitties in question look like this:


When they first came.


My favorite of the two. Lots of spark, very garang, and most importantly, knows not to use her claws when she climbs on top of you. Likes to climb up your shirt to get close enough to your face to pat it and lick your chin.





Terrible habit of trying to climb your leg like a tree, but awfully sweet, very talkative. Seemingly more of a people cat than her sister at this stage.


"Ugh, dog food."

Hee, this photo just cracks me up.