Probably a more accurate title for this post would be, "look what the cat left behind".
Yesterday Emma and I became foster parents to this tiny little kitten. It was left behind in a litter of kittens that were born in the barn yesterday. The mother moved all the rest of the babies, but never came back for this one. We watched it all afternoon and by evening, when it was still there, crying and cold, we decided to intervene. Emma has named it Dolly–(quite an improvement from the first name she gave it: Angelina…dramatically pronounced AHN-gelina).
We wrapped the kitten in a heating pad, and made a late night run to the petshop for milk replacer and a tiny bottle.
It was quite a night under our roof. Mary came down with ear infections in both ears which was accompanied by crusty eyes. She ended up in bed with me and Dan and the kitten ended up in her room so that I could quietly get up and do nightime feedings.
So, we made it through the night. But every time Dolly falls asleep for a long time, I go to the box to check, expecting the worst. She has to be at least a day or two old and barely even looks like a kitten to me. Of course Dan’s first reaction to me saying she didn’t look very cat-like was, "wouldn’t it be funny if it just turned out to be a baby rat?" No. It wouldn’t.
Thank goodness for my sister–the animal know-it-all, wildlife rehabilitator, who patiently handled multiple calls from me last night and told me important things like how much to feed it and that I needed to wipe its bum with a warm cloth to get it to have a BM (very unpleasant, but amazingly, it works.) I called her this morning to see if I could pass Dolly on to her, but she’s too busy with the orphaned baby screech owl she’s raising, her cat who’s being nursed back to health after getting a paw stuck in a trap and a dog who’s ready to have her puppies (not to mention three children to take care of)…so Emma and I are on our own. Doing our best. Hoping for a healthy little life for Dolly.