When the "Baby" came almost two weeks ago, she didn't eat solid food well, so we went to the store and bought a kitty bottle and kitty formula.
Now, I nursed all my babies, so I don't know anything about bottles. But I did find out that if you only have ONE and the Baby is screaming at 3 a.m., you are NOT nice to the other people in the household who are potential bottle-misplacers. (I found it the next day, in the Suburban, thank you, Man-Who-Swore-He-Didn't-Touch-the-Bottle.)
Little No Name Kitty loves her bottle. She is eating well now, so we are weaning her from the bottle and she is not happy about it at all. She practically attacks it. Which reminds me of a story:
This is the second little kitten I have had to bottle feed. The first one was early in my relationship with Steve. We had only been dating a few months and I was living on campus at a college about an hour away. Right before finals, my room mate came back from her parents' house with a teeny little kitten that she found in the middle of the road. She couldn't keep it, so I brought it home with me.
My great-aunt, with whom I was living, promptly brought the kitty to the vet and came back with a bottle and formula for her. My great-uncle, a big "man's man" would come home on his lunch hour to give "The Baby," as he always called her, her bottle. My great-aunt ALWAYS, as long as I could remember, called a baby's bottle a "tuddie bottle."
As the kitten grew, she still loved her Tuddie Bottle and would meow at the kitchen drawer where it was stored. Steve found this completely hilarious, as he did the term "tuddie bottle." He started calling ME Tuddie Bottle. After a few weeks, he dropped it to "Tuddie" and I started calling HIM Tuddie as well. To this day, more than 25 years later, he still calls me Tuddie and he also signs all his cards to me as "Tuddie."
