I was wrong.
While the experience came with a lot of stories, and it was a Good Thing to Do, I'm going to try very hard to never do this again. Some examples of this month's struggles:
1) Because you aren't keeping the cats, you shouldn't get attached. For that reason, the mom is always just "cat," and then there's "the kitten with the boots," "the middle kitten," and "the runt." The shelter told me I could name them, but it just seemed like a bad idea. It also doesn't help that you don't find out their gender until they're older, because I didn't even have a pronoun to use instead of a name.2) Since you aren't attached to the cats, and they aren't yours, you feel much less forgivable when they act weird. When Shakespeare wakes me up in the morning, it's the best alarm clock ever. When mom cat does it, I'm immediately annoyed. It's the difference between having a house guest and having family.
3) Kittens are so fragile! They've had to go in for eye infections, one of them has been making messes everywhere and I have to take him in to see if he has worms, and you constantly have to be on the alert for flees. Even if you do all the things you're supposed to, the kittens still might just die. And since they aren't yours, you will feel even worse about it.
I will add that I was very lucky to have a mom cat who was generally very helpful through all this. She didn't mind when I was smearing medicine on her kittens' eyes, and we tagged teamed cleaning the kitten last night (she only clean them if they're convenient, and I was so tired of wiping it off with a wet paper towel that I just held the kitten down while she licked it clean. Gross.)4) Animals smell. That's just how it goes. And my bathroom is too small for the litterbox to go there, so it's in my closet, and I'm constantly vacuuming and scooping and air-freshening and lysol-ing. My hands are so dry from the amount of cleaning I do. On the bright side, cleaning a litterbox is way easier than cleaning a rat cage.
5) Cats are prickly! Even when they're happy with you, they dig their claws into your leg. I had to hide my grammy quilt so they couldn't dig into that, but they've ruined some clothes and I'm constantly stopping them from yanking up the carpet. They've only recently started chewing on wood, too, so my desk and dresser are on high alert.
So I don't care how cute they are, I hate them. I do not want a kitten. I keep telling people, and they don't believe me, but truly- I want a grouchy, old, fat cat that hides in the corner and hisses at strangers and only likes me (but in a prideful, not needy way). Preferably orange. So basically, Garfield.
