The kittens have been old enough to leave puddles and little poops around for us for about a week and a half now. I have grabbed them when they gave signs and rushed to the litter box only to be stymied by their conviction that Fresh Step is food. The tell-tale grumpy meows and pacing come to an end once their paws touch the scoopable and their bobble-heads fall forward in order to acquire a tongue-full of litter.
I don't know if it is the sparkly blue odor-killing crystals or the general belief that I wouldn't put them anywhere that wasn't food, but as soon as I placed the babies in the box they assume an eating position. And I would spend the next few minutes scooping the stuff out of their mouths, much to their dismay.
Tonight my furry darlings had milk and wet food, dry food made for babies and some water. After playing and napping a few got up from their nest on the couch with me and trotted to the place that litter boxes live, the laundry room.
I followed to be sure this wasn't going to be another "we wanted to go for a walk and you weren't there and we were lost YOWL" event. That happens due to the drama even the youngest kitten enjoys. It is fun to them (I gather) to scoot away from a known safe place and then scream for rescue. I fall for it every time.
My darlings didn't stop to cry for rescue, they went straight for the box, heaved their plump kitten bellies over the edge and assumed the position. Tee-tee accomplished and no litter eaten.
It was a good day.