Melly loves attention, and she is not particular about the form it takes. She's fine with being on the receiving end of a jet from the Squirt Bottle O' Discipline if it means the focus is on her. Of course, belly rubs and snuggles are preferred, especially if they're accompanied by a camera pointed in her direction.
This picture was taken two days after Melly's arrival. In it, Scarlett is reflecting on the unfairness of having to share her previously well-ordered world with a tiny, hell-raising upstart. Observe the Poofy Tail of Righteous Indignation.
Things continue to be really crazy around here and I've run out of saved posts, so things may be a bit sparse for a bit. The cats aren't psyched about the decrease in attention (they just broke a lamp--sigh), but I'll make it up to them next week!
On the post about Melly eating the button, Connie from Tails from the Foster Kittens commented that you can use peroxide and a syringe to make a cat vomit. I emailed her and asked for more info, since it sounded like potentially useful information.
Here is her reply:
I've used it once when I thought Jack ate an acetaminophen tablet. When I worked as a receptionist at a vet I saw the vets do it often and gave him 1cc of peroxide every few minutes in a needless syringe till he hurled. It was horrible waiting. fortunately it was a hidden piece of kibble and not the tablet I dropped.
Like the page says, and like you need to be in kids, you need to be cautious when you give it. You want to make sure it isn't something that is going to be doing more damage coming out (like caustic stuff).
Feel free to share.. it is a good piece of information to have.
As you know, Melly likes to chew things. And when I say "things," I mean all of them. She is like a teething puppy.
Anyway, Melly is particularly fond of chewing on the buttons on my pajama tops. Most of the buttons are over sized and sturdy, so I don't usually worry about it. However, late Tuesday night, Melly was going to town on a smaller, thinner button when I heard a crunch. It was the button--or rather, three-quarters of it. (Thankfully, not the part with the thread attached.) I immediately tried to wrestle it away from Melly, but she swallowed it before I could.
I am a glass-half-empty sort of person, so every worst-case scenario immediately flew through my head. (Also, it was past midnight, and I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders.) I stayed awake with Melly for a couple of hours, but she seemed fine, and after a while, refused to let me hold her anymore.
Wednesday morning, I found a hairball of Melly's, but--frustratingly--no button in the puke. Melly was her usual self, although in my panic, I thought she seemed a little subdued. But she ate with gusto and didn't complain when I palpated her belly. I debated staying home from work to watch her, but had to go in to the office.
I was a bit of a wreck at work, and finally, around 1:30, I couldn't take it anymore and had to go home and check on Melly. A coworker and friend came with me, and on the way home, I called Melly's vet and left a panicky, shaky-voiced message describing the situation. I was convinced I'd find the worst when I got home, but when I opened the apartment door, Melly was there to greet me, tail straight up in the air as usual. I scoured the place for vomit, but there was none. I fed Melly some treats, which she gleefully ate. The vet called back and said that a button that size shouldn't cause much trouble, and just to keep an eye out for it in the litter box. I went back to work feeling much lighter indeed.
As I type this on Wednesday evening, Melly is being her usual ridiculous self, but I can't stop watching her (and giving her lots of extra snuggles!) in case that pesky button decides to cause trouble. Please keep your fingers crossed that it doesn't!
Thank you all for your lovely comments on Melly's Gotcha Day post! She is still recovering from her celebrations, which entailed eating treats, chasing Scarlett around the apartment, and eating my hair.
Today is the second anniversary of Melly's arrival at chez Natalie! It is also the second anniversary of this blog. As most of you know, Melly started her time in the blogosphere as Sally Dickens on Pitter Pats of Baby Cats. I started this blog mostly to keep her fans updated on her antics, but the blog readers ended up being incredibly helpful and supportive during the difficult beginning of Scarlett and Melly's relationship.
When Melly first arrived, I set up her isolation zone in the bedroom.
Then it occurred to me that Scarlett would not be pleased to be separated from me at night, and so Melly was relocated to the bathroom. I periodically swapped the cats (Scarlett in the loo, Melly out) to let Melly expend some of her crazy kitten energy. Of which she had (and still has) lots.
Happy gotcha day, my goofy girl! I'm so happy you're mine.
Summer in the Pacific Northwest is awesome. Days like this...
...remind me why I moved across the country to live here, and make the seemingly endless months of drizzle worth it.
As I was typing that, Melly jumped into my lap and started chewing on my fingers, which either meant she wanted to be featured in today's post, or she was begging for treats. It's hard to tell with her sometimes.
The shelf of the TV stand can get fairly warm if the cable box and the playstation have both been turned on, and Scarlett likes to take advantage of the heat. (Have you detected a pattern? She likes heat.)
I did about 10 loads of laundry on Saturday and Melly was in heaven, burrowing through pile after pile of clothes as they came out of the drier.
When Melly is being snuggly and she's really happy, she does a sort of extended head-bonk in which she smooshes the top of her head against the object of her affection and holds it there. If she's sitting on my lap, she'll do it to the crook of my elbow; below, it's the warm sheets.
She did not take kindly to me disturbing her moment with the sheets.
On an unrelated note, I have a big project going for work that is eating up most of my time, so please forgive my lack of blog visiting for the next couple of weeks.