Meeeeoooow. The first night was hard. I was very excited about my new humans and all the exciting new places that I could run and hide in. There were plenty of strange new smells and things to bite on. I discovered new surfaces that felt incredible when I gently stretched and pushed in my nails into them. In many ways it was heavenly.
My humans were very attentive and cuddled me constantly. I no longer felt like the little runt of the six-pack. Here I was, the Queen of Sheba and my humans couldn’t do enough to keep me entertained, snuggled and loved.
It started to get dark outside. I felt it was getting late, I should return home to see my cat mommy. But it didn’t happen. I started to search frantically for mom and mewed a few times called out for her: “Mom, Mom, where are you?”
My humans picked me up and held me. They played with me, and we prodded some little furry mice together. They must have been special mice because they made tinkling noises as we played with them.
My human then picked me up, and brought me over to a furry, warm igloo. Inside there was a big floppy cat that didn’t move. It just seemed to vibrate every time it’s heart would beat. The floppy cat didn’t smell like a cat. It didn’t move, but was warm and I was tired. I felt that it was in a deep sleep and wanted to cuddle.
I was so tired. I didn’t understand where mommy-cat was. The humans seemed to have left the room too. This surrogate, comatose, floppy warm body seemed safe. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. With the next breath I was asleep.
I’ve heard that in an ideal world kitties should stay with their mommy-cat until they are twelve weeks old. That’s so we can learn safe interaction and social skills. I think I’ve done fine I moved to my new family at eight weeks of age. We will always miss our cat moms at first. Eight or twelve weeks, you decide. As they say I will ‘put the cat amongst the pigeons’ and see what everyone says.