last week i was seriously debating adopting another kitten. i go through this every few months. even though i already have two full grown cats that are extremely loud, demanding and hungry, i'm still a sucker for kittens. kittens are the cutest animals in the world, only slightly ahead of baby alpacas. i live in an apartment, so clearly the alpaca is not an option for a pet.
so anyway, i had kitten on the brain.
i even went so far as to start looking for a possible kitten to adopt. now, this is when it gets very hard to turn back. i adopted ziggy and laddie (they are brother and sister) from a shelter as babies. so i visited the same shelter's website to check out the feline situation. so many little kitties, and big kitties, need homes. they are all cute, and i'm the biggest softie ever. i start thinking i should adopt more than one. if i don't, they'll be put down. terrible!
but then i calm down, and revert back to looking for ONE kitten. and i found one. his name is little man, and he is 8 weeks old. he is adorable. I HAD TO HAVE HIM. i start thinking about budgeting in vet costs for the very near future, and considering new names (i was favoring ferdinand de saussure...god knows why) for a baby kitty. i was getting totally stoked. i was getting mixed reactions from friends. some said this was a terrible idea; others supported my continued pathway to crazy cat lady-dom.
and then this weekend happened.
my cats must have sensed i was thinking about bringing in an outsider to encroach on their play and cuddle time. both of them were absolutely terrible all weekend - knocking over drinks, meowing loudly through the night, eating a ton, getting terrible diarrhea, fighting with each other, vomiting and pooping on the floor, and simply ignoring the fact that they had a litterbox at all. it was an all out attack on my sanity.
i'm not getting another kitten. no. way.
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