When a kitten has multiple episodes of diarrhea while sleeping, a wet washcloth doesn't do everything. He's been stinky and tangled in the nether regions, but he was too little and frail to wash. Yesterday we got the go-ahead from Dr. Colleen.
First, I had to find baby shampoo. Our local grocery, Huffman's, had it, in bottles bigger than my baby. As I have allergies to all artificial fragrances, I bought the "New Natural Lavender and Chamomile" version, which is a fetching shade of purple. Once opened, it bore all the resemblance to natural smells that Toby's blue plush elephant bears to a real elephant. Apparently there's a whole lot of fake in with that "natural."
Then we checked him with the blow-dryer. It didn't faze him at all. The bath was a go.
We ran a sink of warm water and I soaped him up. He began screaming at the first touch of the shampoo. Maybe it was the smell, but more likely his irritated skin was hurting. I scrubbed him as quickly and gently as I could, rinsed him twice, and spent a few minutes doing scary detail work with a flea comb to get the big chunks out, then towel-dried him very gingerly and pulled out the dryer.
I made sure my hand was always in the path of the dryer so I wouldn't inadvertently burn him. He was still complaining, but less vociferously, and by the end of the drying period he seemed to like the feeling of the warm wind.
We left the bathroom. I set him down on the couch and got out the thread scissors, intending to trim some of the longer bits of fur near his anus so they wouldn't get cruddy again. (I had already had to trim some of it, and parts of his tail, while he was too sick to bathe.) He took one look at the scissors, gave me the nastiest glare a cute baby can give, walked off, and sat down hard on his little bum with his back to me. "No way, lady. Just take those sharp things AWAY." I gave up.
He's forgiven me for the whole episode and is doing well. These pictures are from blear o'clock this morning (around sunrise; I'd been up since 1:30 doing the graveyard shift.)
Then we checked him with the blow-dryer. It didn't faze him at all. The bath was a go.
We ran a sink of warm water and I soaped him up. He began screaming at the first touch of the shampoo. Maybe it was the smell, but more likely his irritated skin was hurting. I scrubbed him as quickly and gently as I could, rinsed him twice, and spent a few minutes doing scary detail work with a flea comb to get the big chunks out, then towel-dried him very gingerly and pulled out the dryer.
I made sure my hand was always in the path of the dryer so I wouldn't inadvertently burn him. He was still complaining, but less vociferously, and by the end of the drying period he seemed to like the feeling of the warm wind.
We left the bathroom. I set him down on the couch and got out the thread scissors, intending to trim some of the longer bits of fur near his anus so they wouldn't get cruddy again. (I had already had to trim some of it, and parts of his tail, while he was too sick to bathe.) He took one look at the scissors, gave me the nastiest glare a cute baby can give, walked off, and sat down hard on his little bum with his back to me. "No way, lady. Just take those sharp things AWAY." I gave up.
He's forgiven me for the whole episode and is doing well. These pictures are from blear o'clock this morning (around sunrise; I'd been up since 1:30 doing the graveyard shift.)
The blue elephant is his favorite--there are so many good spots to bite.
Vanquished!
Time to fall asleep with my paws on Mama's shirt.
Or lean on her arm.
The laptop is a warm pillow.
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