Don't Worry. I'm Leaving On Vacation In A Few Days, And You'll Have A Break From The Kitten Talk.

Still waiting on the test results. In the meantime, Mickey the Kitten certainly still seems to be doing well. It's amazing how quickly he's adjusted to his new life as a housecat. It used to be that when I went in to see him, he'd immediately start purring. Now, I go into the bathroom after waking up or coming home from work, and he complains at me. "MrrRRRRMroowwWrrowrRRRAO!" Which means he wants food. But not just any food, no. He does not want the dry kitten chow I have left for him overnight or while I was gone. He wants the good food, the canned kind, which I only started feeding him in the first place because the vet said it would make him less constipated. Oh, how very, very far we have come from the pitiful little stray kitten who seemed entirely willing to eat anything vaguely edible. It's really kind of cute.

Also cute, while simultaneously being deeply annoying, is the fact that ever since I gave the critter a name, I've had inane singing in my head:

Oh, Mickey, you're a kitty,
So I understand.
You're so very furry,
So I pet you with my hand.

Yeah. I'm really dating myself with that one, aren't I? Ah, 1982. You and your legacy of bad, yet disturbingly catchy pop music will truly never die.