TMI Thursday: Day Three

Day two and three of being surrogate mothers to a pair of orphaned kittehs has proven to be interesting, to say the least. Disgustingly interesting.

Apparently, newborn kittens lack the ability to shit on their own, and they require external stimulation in order to produce excreta of both the solid and liquid kind. Thankfully, I am a human, with thumbs, that can wield a wet wipe. Otherwise, if I was a cat, I'd have to do this...with my tongue.

My wife, who is regretting telling her friend that she could have one of the kittens, has been researching the care and uptake of orphaned kittehs. That's how she knew that the external stimulation must be done. She's a trooper and did it on the aforementioned Pichigo/Peachigo yesterday, and received tiny cat turds and too much cat pee as a reward.

Last night, it was my turn with the other kitty, Motley (though, you'd think, a calico would be better suited to the name of "Motley", but I digress). So, once Motley was fed and petted, I got the wet wipe out and started going over Motley as if the wet wipe was a mother cat's tongue. I washed his/her little face and then I worked my way down the tummy. After cleaning face and tummy, it was time for the stimulation of the genitalia and the asshole.

I, too, was rewarded with a torrent of tiny kitteh peepee. See, I tried to use "cute" terminology there to lure you into a false sense of security because what came next was horrific.

I then dabbed and his/her little anus, trying to coax out the poo. The previous day, they had fouled the basket in which they live with what I can only assume is kitty meconium, because it was black. So, we knew that their GI tracts were healthy, we just needed to make sure that they were learning how to use them.

So, a-wiping at the butt I went. I'm apparently an expert cat-shit-inducer, because I saw Motley's tiny little anus swell, and then out erupted what looked suspiciously like a grub. Because I'm a man, I screamed and dropped the cat, running from the room and curling into the fetal position beneath the dining room table, trying my best not to cry played like it was no big thing, caught the tiny, worm-like turd in the towel on which Motley was resting, and continued wiping.

I was rewarded with another white turd that didn't look exactly like a petrified meal worm had just crawled out of his/her asshole. And then came some kitteh diarrhea. Apparently, the worm-like shit was a plug holding back the semi-soft shit that was to follow.

You know, when I was a fresh-faced youth of 18, heading out into the world to make my mark and find my fortune...I was pretty certain I would never have to write the previous five paragraphs. Oh what a fickle mistress fate and reality are.

Fortunately, hell beast kitty turds flush just like their human counterparts. So, once finished excreting, I put little Motley back in the basket, carried the towel into the bathroom, shook out the turds and then vomited washed my hands so furiously and so thoroughly, I'd put an OCD patient to shame.

We've got a nice little system worked out, my wife and I. She's feeds them, and I rub their naughty bits in hopes of scoring all the free cat urine and feces that I want. I've since performed the stimulation a couple of times, netting fabulous results each and every time, and ensuring that my cats are healthy little freeloaders pets.

Strangely enough, this banana that I brought with my for lunch doesn't look nearly as enticing as it did this morning...

Come back tomorrow, where I promise I won't talk about kittehs--or their poops--and we'll discover the fate of this banana.