Sometime between 6:45 and 7:20 am, I start to make moaning noises and twitch under the covers, as sunlight intrudes on the bedroom and I start to assume consciousness.
At this time, Gurney realizes that I am awake, and jumps up onto my shoulder or chest for cuddles. His brother Duncan soon follows, and eventually Molly turns up as well.
Today, when I rolled over, Duncan was on the foot of the bed, but the only kitten who wasn't too musy doing Important Kitten Things to come be petted was... the semiferal, Molly, who we have been working on for two months now to get her to accept being touched.
She settled cheerfully into the warm spot between Scott and me and started purring like a mad thing, poking my fingers with her paws, headbutting, and generally demanding to be cuddled and fussed over.
She was getting a bit pushier about getting her share of time and petting when the boys were climbing all over me, but this is the first time I've really been independently Molly-cuddled.
The boys showed up eventually, and then I had to spend about twenty minutes playing fetch with them (the boys play fetch, but only with specific toys. Duncan likes the plastic springs. Gurney has a particular sisal mousie that is HIS. It is the Best Mousie. Other mousies are mere shadows of the One True Mousie.)
Photo evidence of the amount of kitten fetch my life contains now:
Molly is not amused:
Or maybe she is. She has resting WE ARE NOT AMUSED FACE, so it's hard to tell.
Here are some cuddly boys:
I weighed the kjittens yesterday. With the boys, this just meant putting new batteries in the scale (they had worn out the old ones playing with the pretty lights), weighing myself, and then weighing myself plus each kitten. Molly, being semiferal, was a little more challenging.
I put the scale next to the food bowls and rattled the cat food bag. Once everybody was safely in the bathroom where the cats get fed, I closed the...
Molly, seeing the door close, MADE A BREAK FOR IT and ESCAPED. (I am a vile and perfidous Ape!) She slid through like MacGyver diving under a closing blast door, and I was left with two already-weighed boy kittens and their chorous of demand for crunchies. (Because our cats are mostly fed wet food, crunchies are a hardcore treat and in high demand around here.)
So I opened the door again and put food IN THE BOWLS this time.
Molly came trotting back and settled down by her bowl. (She has chosen the one closest to the door, natch, for fastest escapes.) I SHUT THE DOOR.
She was busy enough with the crunchies that she only glanced over.
She will allow herself to be petted while eating at this point, after long practice, as long as you make yourself small and don't loom over her (VILE TIPPY APE). So I crouched down on the scale, reached over, petted her, and very carefully lifted her six inches off the floor. Before she started to squirm, I managed to read the scale!
Molly is 8 months, one week old (roughly) and 6.9 lbs. The boys are 6 months, 3 weeks old, and both are exactly 8 pounds. This keeps surprising me, because Gurney looks bigger--but he's long and rangy and very skinny, whereas Duncan is more compact.
And now, I need to go work on my novella.