Six weeks since we decided to let an animal come live in our apartment with us.
He decided to tell me about his obsession with nursing on the very first night. Although I will not let him suck on my ear lobe, lip, or in the crook of my neck (which would be his preferences), he will gladly suckle away on my hand. I sleep a lot less than I used to.
He’s a bit bigger. Looks more like a tiny cat than a kitten.
Sometimes our quality time involves cuddling. More often than not, though, it involves biting and shouting.
Please note the bottles that are tipped over in the background.
Also, please note that this plant is now outside of the apartment building, as I don’t think it can bear to be wrestled with by a clawed, fanged little monster any further.
The vet and the interwebs have suggested that a second kitten might help to divert some of the evil. More fun to bite someone of the same species. So that could be happening on Sunday. Or we could just be escalating the lunacy exponentially, and you shall never hear from me again, because cats will never not be walking on my head.