A little background pt 1

Since I'm starting this blog a little late, I've had Basement Kitteh for 11 days now, I thought we could play catch up with some of my Twitter posts. I guess I should start by telling you the kitteh's name is not Basement Cat, her name is Chicory*. It's a totally cute name for a cat who is actually totally cute, if not a little demonic.


*Chicory is a coffee add-in used in New Orleans, which is home for me (WHO DAT NATION!), so there's that.

Moving on. Here are my Tweets and what was going through my mind


Day One:
Let's play catch up: I got a kitteh, and for the past 36 hours she's been hiding in her carrier or under my bed, terrified of me
LOLz! She's shy and adorable. I felt so bad for her being scared. She wouldn't meow or mew or move or anything. I tried luring her out with some food. Still nothing. Then I stuck my hand in the carrier to try and get her out (I know that was dumb, thank you) and she bit me. After that, I took this picture which was as close to her as I got for the next 9 days.


After a few hours Chicory came out of the cat carrier and squished herself against the kitchen wall under the countertop/island-like Ikea piece in the kitchen. I had intended to quarantine her in the kitchen until I was sure she was litter trained, but she made short of those plans. As soon as I saw her out of the carrier I came over to show her how nice I was and she bolted past me and over the really secure fence I'd built (photo coming) and into my room and under the bed, hissing the whole way.


Day Two:
Chicory is a little like a magic elf, she only does things when I'm asleep or not at home. At least I know the hunger strike is over.
I was very concerned Chicory was going to die of starvation after 24 hours of her not eating. So before I left for the day I filled her food bowl and placed it under my bed. THAT'S RIGHT - I put a dish of disgusting, smelly wet food under my bed, just so she could eat and not be scared. And it paid off, I thought, when I came home and not only had she eaten but used the litter box (which stays in the kitchen). MY GENIUS KITTEH! I was so proud of her. I rushed into the bedroom, stuck my head under the bed and - HISSSSSSSS - yeah, Chicory was not exactly thrilled to see me. "It's OK," I cooed, trying to calm her, "you're such a good kitty." And I slooooowly reached my hand under the bed. HISSSSSS, SWAT! She nearly shredded my hand for the second time. "OK then, I guess I won't refill your food bowl!"

How much trust do we have to build before I can bathe her and put her collar on?
Before I picked Chicory up, I went to PetSmart and spent a small fortune (what should have been grocery money for the month) on supplies for her. I got a bed (remember, I thought she'd be living in the kitchen), toys, food, adorable collar, flea collar, cat shampoo, EVERYTHING. I had these really grand ideas that Chicory would get to my house and we'd just become fast friends immediately. This was my first lament that things wouldn't be that way. I mean just LOOK at how adorable that collar is!




OK. That's it for now. More Tweet updates tomorrow. And then there's so much MORE to tell.