Every time I hit the brakes on my car, I make a pathetic noise. As if the brake pads were completely worn out on one side. I have to approach the problem somehow. So I get a set of new brake pads at the nearest auto parts store and drive to Edward's, who has set up a miniature auto repair shop in his yard. There you can see that the brake discs have ridden down quite a bit and need to be replaced. None of that is a thing, after all, I drive a very popular model. There should be the panes on every corner, but first I have to go back on board because the kittens need to be fed again.
You can't even get something like kitten rearing milk here in pet shops. The cat milk in the supermarket costs 3.50 florin per 200ml, which almost borders on fraud. Because if I see on the list of ingredients that it contains lactose-free cow's milk, I can go straight to the shelves for people and buy a liter of low-fat lactose-free cow's milk for 1.99 florin. The little rascals drink up three quarters of a liter a day. I hope that I will soon get them to eat normal cat food, because they always have to fight hard over their milk portion. I can only give one of the kittens his portion at a time, the other 12 paws then fight for pole position.
At first I had a lot of trouble getting her to pee and poop. Now I don't need it anymore, you can do it by yourself. Whether I'm home or not. Sometimes they go to the litter box. But mostly not. Occasionally I see a tomcat in a corner who is in a suspicious position and suddenly makes suspicious noises. Then I grab the guy and carry him by the neck to the litter box. It works, that's where they start pawing and digging. When I'm not on board, the waste ends up somewhere on the carpet.
Exactly on the carpet that Jens and I cleared of the oil spill months ago. On the carpet that was lovingly fitted into the salon by the previous owners. On the carpet, which has not been beautiful for a long time and is only supposed to hide the ugly floorboards. I want to make them beautiful in the course of this year and completely dispense with the difficult-to-clean floor covering. When the kittens are back at the shelter, cleaning will consist of throwing the carpet tiles in the trash.
I drive the kittens to the shelter for dewormer and examination on Tuesday and we discover that we cannot find the girl. There are four boys. This also means that the thought of referring the girl to the harbor master Paul, who is looking for company for his Mikey, is over. Mikey doesn't accept men around him.
Since the name must somehow match the person who wears it, the two most curious tomcats have been given the names Columbus and Magellan. They are both explorers and have to shove their little noses everywhere. Then we have Admiral Nelson, who is calm itself. He takes little part in the battle for milk, but waits somewhat patiently for his portion. The last one in the bunch is a fantasy character - Captain Sparrow. He's a little bastard and especially mean to his little brothers.
After all, the day comes when everyone eats from the food bowl. At first they are unsure of the food source. It actually smells delicious, but it has nothing to do with what was previously on the menu. So it is viewed from all sides. In my expectation, either Columbus or Magellan would take the first step. I will not be disappointed. Magellan immediately puts his paws in the bowl. The others watch, fascinated, but the noises make it sound like food. A rather rhythmic smacking sounds in the salon, the pointed ears wiggle in time. The tomcat gets more and more into eating ecstasy and ends up on its stomach in the food. No grip in the bowl.
Meanwhile, Captain Sparrow sneaks up to the bowl. At first he tries rather hesitantly, then I notice that he also likes the new food. The other two tend to stay away and with me instead of taking care of their food. I'm just mom and mom has to give milk. As they explained to me at the animal shelter, the cat mom decides at some point that there is no more milk. Then there are mice. Captain Sparrow thinks it is so delicious that after just a few minutes he is smacking his stomach next to Magellan.
The other two initially have problems with the size of the chunks. They soak up the food rather than chew it. They still have to learn that. They are great at biting their toes, but not yet biting their food. The food makes a huge mess in the fur of the tigers, so after the meal I also wash the cats with them. With the chopped up food, I can now motivate the other two to fill their stomachs in the bowl.
This is the first meal the kittens decide how much to eat. Columbus is lying in the corner with a ball belly. Captain Sparrow also seems to have taken on a little too much. The other two look normal. I'm curious how long this meal lasts compared to the usual milk meal.
I can use the time to get the brake discs from the auto parts dealer. I didn't get any hits in the first four stores, and finally I found the discs in the fifth and most expensive store. I could have gone to Toyota right away. I agree with Edward that we change the brake discs the following day.
Said and done. My car is in the makeshift workshop and Edward is taking off the starboard bow tire. I already have the new disc ready to hand. A minute later the old pane is dismantled. She's crying out to be replaced.
Edward takes the new disk and wants to put it on the axle. He curses. I see the disaster and swear with it. The new disc is two centimeters more in diameter. I beg your pardon? When shopping I made sure that I bought the windows for the correct year of manufacture. The receipt for the purchase has already ended up in the trash somewhere. I drive back to the parts dealer and complain. After talking to the manager, it is possible to return the panes and a replacement receipt will be printed out for me. Of course, I can't take the matching discs with me because they're not in stock. They are ordered and have a delivery time of one week. Okay, I can live with that.
How did this problem come about? Quite simply, I would call the cause "Aruba". When asked about the year of construction, I replied with 2002, as it is in the vehicle documents. The problem is that the registration papers were made in Aruba. After entering the vehicle number in the car parts dealer's computer, the year of construction suddenly appears in 1999. Nobody can really explain to me why that was three years younger. It probably took the vehicle three years to get to Aruba from Japan and to be registered for the first time. Incidentally, there are different window sizes for the year of construction 1999 - with and without ABS.
And once again I finished writing a post despite tiger-related disruptions. I am proud. Now I can wash the tigers again. With the washcloth. Bathing in the food is not good for the coat.
And now everyone can sing along. Cat loo, cat loo ...