Tiger Jack! the Explorer - Update.

[talkstowolves]

Tiger is a bit of a clichéd name and, Andy and I being as well-read and -educated as we are, wanted to try giving the kitten another name. Also, he didn't seem to be taking to Tiger at first, any more than he took to Jack.

Therefore, we threw the following names at him, seeing if one would stick: Merry, Vir Catto, Leto, Pan, Winston, Watson, Widget, Gizmo, Milo, Toby, Kirby, Leonidas, Liono, Tigger, Loki, Azrael, and a few others I've forgotten by now. None worked. He truly is Tiger Jack! the Explorer. And, considering how he acts, Tiger isn't so much a cliché as a classic.

Oh, points to those as can identify where the potential names came from.

So we've persisted in calling him Tiger and he's finally starting to associate it with himself in little ways.

Tiger is a bundle of kitten-energy. He galumphs across the apartment, trilling to himself. He wrestles with the cat fishing-line toy, growling around the faux-fur-and-bell prize when he gets it. He then tries to slink off to his cave with it, only to get to the end of the line and have it snap back. He loves nothing more than to play with a bit of paper. He does back-flips from standing still. He wants to play with Willie and often makes feints at her tail or tries to jump on her back and grapple with her.

Willie, for her part, is doing remarkably well. She's come to tolerate him and even lets him groom her or deigns to lick him at points now. However, she's still not too keen on all this kitten-ish playing.

Tiger plays hard and crashes hard. He wore himself out so much the other day that Andy was able to pick him up off his pillow, put him down (still in his circular-kitten-snuggle), put a wedge pillow under his pillows, pick him back up, and place him in his earlier sleeping spot... without him ever waking. Awww, sleepy Tiger Jack!

However, Tiger is developing one very unfortunate habit: he's playing in the litter box. He will actually lay down in the litter box and then rip and bat at the plastic covering the tray. Not only is this gross, but it makes noise. One of us was up at at least six different points over the night last night, extracting him from the litter box and trying various techniques to make sure he understood he was doing wrong.

Speaking of disciplinary techniques... the water bottle doesn't work. We spray him with water and he just looks at us funny. Loud noises seem to work better, but he just hunkers down, which is bad when you're trying to extract him from a litter box.

Tiger Jack! the Explorer was all happy and curious when he got to go on another car ride yesterday. He was even still curious and upbeat when we first arrived at the vet's office. And then the vet assistant stuck a thermometer up his butt. He became much less happy at that point. They also tried to extract a stool sample, which didn't really work either.

My little kitty cried and cried, and I felt so bad for him. I was like unto a nervous parent. Andy had to pet me. Anyway, Tiger got his shots and his check-up. We had him tested for feline leukemia as well, which he's negative on. We have to give him some de-worming medicine at home, then he gets to go back in a few weeks for more booster shots and to be fixed. We've decided to keep his front claws, but to keep them clipped and train him not to scratch the furniture. We have to drop a stool sample by at some point too since they couldn't get one while he was in the office.

The vet also wants to see Willie when we bring Tiger back in a few weeks. This is going to be tons of not-fun as Willie is terrified of the Outside and the Vet's-Office-Full-of-Strange-People. Andy and I are both going to have to take days off to accomplish the feat of taking both cats to the vet.

And that be the current status of catlife at the Homestead.

Here's a picture for those of you who like kitty pr0n but not necessarily reading about kittens:


Tiger Jack! is about to attack the hand that pets him.