The Cost of a Kitten…

18 Jul

So… How Much Does a Kitten Cost?

A few people have asked me how much my kitten cost. Well, I paid £30 for Holly. That’s right thirty English pounds – about the same as a decent main course and a few glasses of red wine in a middle of the road restaurant. Around the same price as a good t-shirt, or a bad concert ticket. Not a lot, really. However, I feel that it is my duty to make you all aware of some of the “hidden” costs of becoming a cat owner, costs which I could not have imagined when I forked out three crisp £10 notes for my little furry bundle of joy six weeks ago. So let’s start with:

The Kitten – £30

Yes, ok, I bought my cat from a Pet Shop. Read the first blog before you judge me – I’m over it, you should be too.

The “Cat Stuff” – £40 to £60

As we have established, kittens need “cat stuff”. Essentially, your new friend will need food, bowls, a litter tray and cat litter, a scratching post and a bed. If you’re feeling generous you may also want to pick up some toys for your new bundle of fluff, but as I have since discovered your kitten will probably be more interested in the scrunched up receipt which you accidentally drop on the floor. If you’re looking for cheap entertainment I can recommend fabric covered hair-ties, balls of tinfoil or plastic drinking straws. You know, the ones you usually reserve for the vodka when your credit card statement comes in.

The Carry Case – £40

As I learned at my cost, you can only successfully carry a kitten in a designer handbag for a few minutes. Any longer will no doubt result in an escaped kitten and more than likely a little brown present left at the bottom of your best bag. Cleaning this up and / or replacing the handbag will cost you considerable more than £40 so think of this as a sound investment for the future. Good news is the carry case also doubles as a toy – mine is under the couch and Holly spends hours trying to get it out so that she can chew on the mesh windows and plot her escape during her next trip to the Vets. Which leads me to…

Vets and Injections – £70

Vets are not cheap. People often think that it’s harder to become a Vet than a Doctor – not strictly true in terms of knowledge, however university places for studying Veterinary science are few and far between which leads to an organised cartel of people charging extortionate amounts for sticking a very large thermometer up your cat’s bum. I’d recommend pet insurance, not because it’s any cheaper but it just feels less painful when it’s removed from your bank in smaller chunks – unfortunately this method doesn’t make the thermometer experience any more pleasant for your cat. If you don’t wince when that baby goes in then you have no heart.

6 x New Blinds – £240

Now, in hindsight having Japanese paper blinds in my apartment has never been a good call. They’re essentially the opposite of blackout blinds, allowing any little bit of light into the apartment at any time of the day or night. But they looked pretty so I put up with the interruption in my sleeping pattern. Then Holly came along. It turns out that kittens like to climb things, and they learn to do this quite quickly. Very quickly. As in you get into the shower and the kitten is on the floor – you get out of the shower a mere eight minutes later and the kitten has not only found her way onto the windowsill but has also managed to claw holes in every single one of your blinds whilst using them as a ladder in a failed attempt to get to your not very interesting ceiling.

My Favourite Blanket – £50

Now I know what you’re thinking, I’m spoiling the kitten by giving her a blanket to keep her warm in her bed at night. Ah, isn’t that lovely? Not quite… The blanket in question was MY blanket, which was on the end of MY bed when Holly had an unfortunate accident. You see, she got the hang of using her litter tray pretty quickly, however she developed a very bad habit of standing in her little deposits whilst trying to bury them. This has resulted in many hours of fun for both of us, me chasing the kitten round the bathroom before washing her paws, releasing her and then disinfecting the floor, walls and on one occasion the ceiling. However on this particular evening she caught me unaware and having (unsuccessfully) buried her latest deposit she ran out from the bathroom and leapt onto the bed – depositing a big lump of fresh cat shit onto my favourite blanket with a flick of her paw. After catching her, washing her paws and cleaning the floor I threw the blanket into the washing machine on a hot wash. Which leads me to…

A New Washer-Dryer – £485

…When several hours later, the blanket had disintegrated in the washing machine, completely blocking the pump and the drain, and leading to…

New Laminate Flooring to the Hallway – £200

Now, flooding washing machines are nothing new to me. Usually I am quick to spot the water pouring out of the drain and jump in with my bucket, minimising the damage. Clean out the drain, throw some drain unblocker stuff down, rinse it through and all is well for another 12 months. Except on this occasion, somewhat exhausted from the bathroom / blanket episode and the subsequent chasing and cleaning, I’d fallen asleep on the couch. Fast asleep, which meant I didn’t hear the weird noise coming from the washing machine, or the subsequent “whoosh” of approximately 20 litres of water flowing out of the front door of the machine before making its way out of my own front door, into the communal hallway and towards the lift. In fact I had no idea what had happened until the next morning, when I woke at around 6am to discover the lost city of Atlantis in my hallway. Cue the kitten, hot on my heels and now believing that she was in fact one of those magic mops you see on QVC. Apparently Cats don’t like water. Which is probably true, but when faced with the decision of staying dry or making my clean-up job even more difficult you can guess which one Holly opted for. 20 minutes later, the kitten was rinsed off, dried and screaming to be let out of the bathroom, and I set to work trying to clean up the floodwaters with a few old towels and a large amount of kitchen roll. It was approximately 4 hours later when I lost the will to live, sat on the wet floor, cried and then called my Dad and asked him to come save me.

So, how much does a kitten cost? Well, in my case the first six weeks of kitten ownership have set me back around £1,175. In my past life, that’s a Chanel handbag, 2 pairs of Louboutins or 78 bottles of cheap vodka. You know those crazy cat ladies you hear about in America, who dress in tatty old clothes, and carry all their possessions in plastic bags but then leave $3 million to the cats home in their will? I get that now. Because there is no point spending money on expensive clothes or nice things when you’re faced with a beast whose sole purpose in life is to destroy them… And your sanity along the way. That crazy cat lady was probably worth $10 million when she got the damn cat!

So six weeks in and I already know that my little beast has cost me somewhat more than £30… And that I still wouldn’t swap her for all the shoes in Dior!!

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One Response to “The Cost of a Kitten…”

  1. mythreemoggies August 22, 2012 at 2:53 pm #

    This made mum laugh as she dreads to think how much we have cost her 🙂

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