It didn't work very well.
An abundance of food, warm, safe places to sleep, and lots of attention turned Melvin from the skinny, pathetic specimen he had been when I brought him home into something....else. One moment he could be sweet, loving, and cute...and the next, all claws and teeth and pouncing. He quickly acquired his first nickname:
The unfortunates who bore the brunt of his antics (aside from my hands and ankles) were the elder statesmen in my house, the old boys, Darwin and Bouhaki. They didn't know what to make of the whirling dervish that had been unleashed inside their formerly peaceful home. They didn't understand that the dervish just wanted to PLAY PLAY PLAYYYYY!!!
|Bouhaki is like, "Why me?"|
|He looks so innocent and harmless...DO NOT BE FOOLED|
Then later, more typical antics:
My peaceful house was no longer peaceful. Melvin was constantly on the move; as my mom put it, "Kittens are extremely busy." Busy was an understatement. He was more like OMG INTO EVERY DAMN THING. It was constant GO GO GO GO GO...
...and then CRASH!
|How could I stay mad at this?|
And then he passed out on my lap and I thought, oh yes. This is what I have done: given this crazy little bundle of energy a forever home. If I hadn't, he would have died. No matter what shenanigans he pulled (and there were many more to come), he was safe and loved because of me, and that's what I had to keep telling myself.
Also, I couldn't stay mad at that much cute.