|It’s very pink, no?|
As our new friend is now 14 weeks old, she’s old enough to come home with us.
We’ve been preparing all week. There was an Ikea trip to manage clutter, a pet store trip for a cozy bed, scratching post, and litter tray, a sturdy cat carrier ordered on line, and even a baby gate purchased for our juliet windows.
As I’ve not bothered to get my Driving License yet, I took the train up to Norwich to pick her up today with my seemingly gigantic pink and gray cat carrier.
Yes, you read that right, pink. When I picked it online, the options were orange/gray or pink/gray. Weakly, I somehow clung to the notion that our kitten is female are surely would prefer a pink carrier. I did not consider how I might feel carrying it.
Carrying a big, empty pink and gray pet carrier is exactly as much fun as it sounds. It’s like carrying a really ugly purse, only a high percentage of people who see it think there’s going to be something really cute inside of it, but there isn’t. It retrospect, I should have put a photo of a piranha in there.
So, my Barbie-worthy cat carrier purse and I took the 11:00 from Liverpool Street to Norwich, arriving 12:52. I resisted the urge to carry on a conversation with the carrier on the train. I made my way to the taxi rank and headed out to our breeder‘s home, approximately 15 minutes outside of the city.
|Having a full, pink cat carrier seemed better…|
For starters, what I saw of Norwich was quite pretty. It seemed definitely worth another visit sometime. My driver was super nice, and before I knew it, I had arrived in Little Plumstead.
Our breeder, Esté, proved a lovely person with a home full of charming pets. She gave me a thorough crash course in our new kitten, covering her vaccinations, micro-chipping, worming, maintenance, registration paperwork, etc. All of the kittens were wonderful, and I was excited to be welcoming one home.
I previously had been too noting of the silliness of carrying an empty cat carrier, and in doing so, I failed to consider the silliness of carrying an occupied one.
|All that mewing made her very sleepy
by the time we got back to London.
She mewed and mewed, all the wait to the train station.
We waved goodbye, mewing away.
I bought a sandwich in a sea of mews.
We waited for our train, finally boarded at 14:50 without a lapse in the mewing. We took our seats, still mewing.
I wasn’t sure if I should just announce my situation to the train car or pretend like this was normal. I opted for the latter, and finally, it stopped.
I peeked in the container, and she started again. I did not peek again. I didn’t move again for 90 minutes.
We arrived back at Liverpool Street and mew-mew-mewed our way to a taxi.
After a few hours, she’s still mew-mew-mewing unless we’re holding her or actively playing with her. Fortunately, we like holding her and playing with her. She’s awfully cute when she’s napping.