So. Why didn't I remember that getting a Siamese kitten is like getting a bloody baby all over again? Why didn't someone remind me?
Sparta continues to settle in, but I am very worried that he's a bit strange. We got him Saturday afternoon, and he had lots of company and cuddles, right up until Monday, when the kids went back to school and Peter and I had to fill a skip (yep, when you have a clean out - HAVE A CLEAN OUT!).
Yesterday I had a lot of running around to do, which again meant I didn't get to spend as much time as I had wanted to.
He's very vocal when he's around us, which is really unsettling. Especially this morning. Every little thing I tried to do he was in and around, climbing on my lap, yowling the whole time. I tried feeding him. Nope Dumping him in the litter box, nope. I couldn't do anything to make it better.
I can't seem to do a lot with him underfoot. I panic that I'm doing the wrong thing and am going to traumatise him, or we'll end up with a neurotic cat. So after about three hours of having him yowl at me and not be able to do anything meaningful, I settled him down for a sleep, as for all the world he was acting like an overtired overstimulated toddler.
He conked within seconds. After half an hour, I managed to extricate him from my arms and get him onto the lounge. He lay there curled up. I snuck off to the toilet. Coming back, all I could do was be deeply grateful for the sudden silence. I started to quietly clean up the lounge room. After about 5 minutes, I peeked at the chair that I had left him in. Empty.
Perhaps he's using his litter tray? No.
Perhaps he's on Gracies' bed? No.
Somehow climbed up onto Matthew's bunk? No.
In my office under the desks? No.
By this time I'm getting nervous and star to call him. Nothing - not a sign of life. Now I really start to get terrified. What if he's got caught in something? What if he's got hit by a boxlanche or booklanche? Peter was right, the house is not ready and now it's killed him!!!
Now for the truly paranoid thought, What if someone's stolen him?!?!? I had left the screen door closed but not locked. Is he under the loungechair?
This went on for about an hour. Desperately calling and scrunching up paper (which gets him faster than anything), and being reduced to whimpering the "oh no" and then actual tears. It was just like he'd vanished off the face of the earth.
I finally walked out the front door and started calling out there (like he could get through a screen door - but I was not thinking right - someone has stolen my baby).
I turned around to see His Nibs, fast asleep in the window, wedged between the glass and the curtains. He opened one eye at the click of the screen door then went back to sleep.
For a brief moment I contemplated throttling him there and then.
So much like a toddler. I haven't felt that life sucking fear/overwhelming relief combo since the kids were little.
So much for my day of 'getting things done'. Hah!
I am having a beeeg cup of Heavenly Earl Grey, hoping that the lavendar in it will help soothe the nerves. Sorta like a Bex and a good lie down. Which I would do, except for the the fact that I don't have any Bex, and I have to get the kids from school...
This is how Sparta likes to sleep: