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Oh my god kittens.

I still haven’t seen Dreadnought this morning, and after much pondering have come to a hard decision: Emmaline is coming in on Tuesday whether I have him or not. He’s gotten independent enough to be running away from Emmaline when he gets startled, and if he’s doing that then having her out there isn’t really an advantage anymore. Plus I made a vet appointment for everyone to get FIV/FeLV checked and wormed on Wednesday; if I have to go in with Emmaline and only 3 kittens, well, that’s better than none. Dreadnought knows where the food is here and I’ll get him sooner or later, hopefully before he is irrevocably feral, but at the moment I have to save the lives I can.

Once he’s checked out FIV/FeLV clear, Astute has a home audition with an excellent couple who want to give him an indoor, no-declaw home which he would share with a resident cat and dog. Fingers crossed that it works out, they’ll be taking him for a week to see if anyone in the house is homicidally inclined toward him. If it doesn’t work out, no harm no foul and he comes back here.

Meanwhile, with three kittens in it my bathroom is a disaster. Seriously, kittens? Poop on the wall? Once everyone has been health-checked, the tamer beasties will be moving into my bedroom, where kittens will be able to play without creating quite so much havoc, and Emmaline will have a window seat to lounge on during the day. Since she’ll be staying, once I’m home from work we’ll be doing room exchanges with her and the other cats, and cautiously letting everyone meet.

Well, technically speaking, Emmaline could go to a new home. If Jesus Christ himself came down from Heaven with three personal references and an established relationship with a vet I approved of, I might let her go. Maybe. Probably I’d just try to pawn a kitten off on Him, though.

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