The Glamour of Rescue or "How I ended up wearing Poop."

I bought a bigger cage for Kreature last night and spent the day getting it cleaned up and ready for him to use it. Once he was in the bigger cage, I could put Norman in the one Kreature was in.


Since Kreature spent the day wrapped in one of my dresses under the Target bag (such a weirdo! ;) ), I got everything set up for him without having to move him. I moved his dog bed (minus the stuffing because he ripped it all out) and his piece of slate and added a water dish. The sliding glass doors in front are how I get him in and out.

Norman has been in a 40 gallon sick tank on my craft room table and had to be moved into the smaller cage. If I had to get him out, I might as well clean his wounds.

Yeah, that didn't work so well.

At all.

This is me covered with Norman's poop. After wrestling him out of the tank, into a towel, holding him tightly so he'd stop tail-whipping me, and keeping his mouth pointed away from my fingers, he did the only thing he could to show me how much he hated me.

He pooped.

While still holding him tightly, I had my daughter use a towel to wipe up the pee running down my legs.

I did manage to get him into his new cage. He was pretty freaked out by it at first. It has his same box and blanket in it, but it's still new. Every time I got near him, he'd start hissing & huffing at me.

But I swear he was laughing at me for having to shower after caring for him. See him grinning? He was proud of himself! ;)

Ah, such is the life of the rescue. Thank goodness for the Sanitary cycle on my washing machine and Chlorox wipes.