First the good news: I adopted a new kitten! A friend of mine has been on the lookout for me for about six months now, his mother often ends up with stray cats who need a good home and I indicated interest in a female, preferably no more than two years old. When she rounded up a batch of kittens (and the mama), and when those kittens came to Chicago while his mom was out of town, it was an opportunity not to be missed.

There were four kittens: two mostly orange, white, and light brown tabbies and two orange and black handpaints. All were female and despite a polydactyl heritage, everyone had the normal number of toes. Apparently there’s some new genes in the bloodline.  In visiting with the kittens the Philosopher and I identified “The Shy One,” “The Starter Kitten,” “The Worried One,” and “Pumpkin.” I tried to imagine which one would be the most appropriate with the gray princess who already has shed all over everything I own.
Ultimately, I decided on “The Worried One.”  She was the second biggest of the group.  Before we left her sisters behind, she was dubbed Pyewacket.
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We got a lift home and introduced her to Gypsy, who was nonplussed and some hissing ensued.
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Pyewacket spent the first night in the bathroom, the first time she’d ever been alone. She also had to spend the next day in the bathroom while I was at work–mostly because I wasn’t sure she was making the transition to pine litter and I really didn’t want to come home to Crouching Gypsy, Hidden Pye AND kitten potty accidents on carpeting. The sound of pitiful meowing and a small black foot reaching under the bathroom door was one of the saddest things I’ve had to deal with in a long time. Gypsy sat outside the bathroom, keeping watch.

Fortunately, within about 72 hours the hissing had considerably decreased, Gypsy seemed rather more accepting of the bouncing black furball, and Pyewacket had figured out where the litter box was!

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Due to a death in the family, the Philosopher spent the weekend with the two of them and he texted pictures of cats snuggling, so I’m encouraged that everyone will do just fine. She’s growing like a weed, I noticed already that she is bigger than when I took these photos.

But that brings us to last night and the bad news, when I flipped Gypsy over to rub her belly and found a rather large cut on her back inner thigh. It wasn’t bleeding but it was raw, so at 9:30 p.m. it was off to the Emergency Vet, where she got three stitches and enough sedation to make her really loopy and snuggly. She also went nose first into my food when we got home; she’s not usually quite that brazen.

Gypsy is doing just fine, she’s not in pain from what I can tell, she’s eating, moving around, not favoring the leg at all. Antibiotics this morning were no fun and we get to repeat that every day for the rest of the week but I’ll take that over the fear that there’s something wrong with my cat. I’m not sure where the cut came from, we can’t find any blood in the apartment and it doesn’t appear to be from tussling with Pye–they’re still just fine. Gypsy had been cleaning it assiduously so hopefully we just need to wait for time to heal.

That, however, also means she’s wearing a cone (or was when I left the house this morning, I assume she didn’t figure out how to take it off yet).

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She’s very put upon and really really wants her ears scratched.

**Cat Info cross posted to Hedgehog Knitting