Thatch at least has both eyes open today, so before I give him his meds, I'll see how they are progressing. He makes me laugh constantly as he tags along with Annabelle. He either struts or trots, and since he doesn't have her jumping abilities or grace yet, he often looks as though he's flailing after her. I can also see that he's patterning himself after her, so in that way she has become his mother.
I wish she'd learn from him about litter box tidiness: he is really intense about burying his waste and I think it may be a product of his feral roof-living days. He digs deep trenches before he does anything, scoops as much litter possible over it, sniffs it, buries it again, and then decides if he's covered his tracks. Annabelle drops a really stinky load, buries nothing, and walks nonchalantly away with absolutely no concern that the air on this side of Central Park has been seriously threatened and lives are endangered.
