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Look at that face! He was so sad that no one wanted him! I am such a softy when it comes to a sad face.

It took more chapters than I thought it would to get to the main character in my book. I always have talked too much, and as it turns out, I type too much too!

Orrin G

I had sworn up and down I would never own a male cat because they are famous for marking their territory. But I decided to take a gamble and get him neutered while he was young and hope for the best. I had heard that if you snip them before they mature and develop the habit of spraying to mark their territory, then they would never engage in the behavior that offends the human sense of smell so much. I really didn’t want him stinking up our home.

And so it was with this promise of future alteration that I assured my loving husband that my new kitten would not be a problem. I secretly hoped and prayed that the little guy would not make a liar out of me.

Now  that I had made the commitment to give this kitten who had survived against all odds a loving home, the first order of business was to give him a proper name. After all, “Orangey” was not very clever at all! I wanted something more original. “Tiger” wasn’t going to cut it,  there were dozens of orange tabby’s out there with that name.  I thought about stealing the name “Morris” from  cat food commercial fame, but again, thought it wasn’t very original. Then just to be silly one day, I came up with “Orrin G” as I pronounced the word “orangey” with the emphasis on the “gee” sound. I tried calling him a few times with this new way of saying his name and he seemed to approve. So now he had a new name although it really didn’t sound all that much different than his first one. Nevertheless, whenever anyone asked for his name, I enjoyed saying Orrin G! And then adding “because Orangey wasn’t very original”. Most people got a chuckle out of it, although there were times when my attempt at humor was met by a blank stare.

Healthy kittens, snoozing peacefully.

Time To Be Adopted

The antibiotics did the trick. No more gooey eyes. No more runny noses. The kittens were two weeks old now and you’d never know they  had such a rough start. They were playful, happy and robust.  We  spent every spare moment we had snuggling and loving them. Momma Kitty always seemed to enjoy the break whenever we took her kittens from her. By comparison to other cats I’d had over the years, she seemed the least interested in her kittens. She was a bit more attentive since her milk had come in, but even still, she just didn’t seem like she really cared about her babies like she should have. I always believed it was because she become a mother when she was just a kitten herself. As with many humans who find themselves in the same predicament, she behaved as if she had been deprived of her youth. Over the next four weeks we continued to keep her locked up with her babies so that she would be forced to nurse them.

When the time came around, Momma Kitty was more than  ready for her babies  to be weaned. They had been mouthing her pellets ever since their teeth came in at the age of four weeks and now at the age of six weeks, it was a bittersweet thing to watch them effortlessly  consume the cat food they were offered. We knew this time would come, but the thought of placing them in new homes was heart wrenching. We had become too attached to each one of them and the thought of parting with them just tore our hearts out. I guess that is what happens when you have to give so much extra attention to a litter of kittens in order to ensure their survival.

Jinx was such a cute kitten! I often wonder what he turned out to look like as an adult.

When I hauled the kittens off to the Veterinarian for their first set of kitten shots, I mentioned to the staff that we were looking for homes for them now and would appreciate it if they’d spread the word. As luck would have it, one of the gals that worked there was more than happy to give one of the kittens a home. She had a barn that needed a good “mouser”. While it wasn’t the most ideal of homes in my mind, it was certainly better than ending up at the shelter. Momma Kitty had lucked out when she wormed her way into our hearts, and if we hadn’t have been willing to take care of her, then the reality was, her kittens, if they had lived,  would have ended  up being strays themselves. So having a barn to live in wasn’t such a bad deal after all. And so our precious Jinx was sent out into the big world to earn his board and keep by reducing the  rodent population at his new home.

One down, three to go. As I recall, almost as many tears were shed when we gave Jinx away as when Tiny Tim died. Would we be able to survive the heartache of placing the three remaining kittens in new homes? I hardened my heart and told myself that I would not be the one to give one of these kittens a home. I already had two cats and I couldn’t afford to take care of one more. I told myself it wasn’t my responsibility! It wasn’t me that had taken in the scraggly looking stray kitten last summer, so why should I even worry about the fate of her babies now? That worry could be left to Brandy and Ryan. After all, it had been them who had the soft hearts to begin with. I was just their consultant, nothing more. I had been happy to advise them and even help take care of the kittens when they were in need, but that was as far as I was willing to go! Anyway, that is what I kept telling myself .

The lease on the basement apartment was coming up and the landlord had tolerated having Momma Kitty in the house while she was mothering kittens, but had made it clear that the cat and her kittens had to go now that the kittens were weaned. As the days went by, the kids had become more and more attached to the kittens and Momma Kitty.  They hadn’t been all that happy with their living arrangements in a basement apartment anyway, so they made the decision to move to a new place where they could keep Momma Kitty and two of her babies.  They were going to keep the two color points, Hoover and Sassy. They figured it would be easy to find a home for a short haired, male kitten.

A couple more weeks went by and they weren’t having any luck finding a home for Orangey. He was eight weeks old now and we all knew,  the longer they had him, the harder it would be to find a home.

As luck would have it, I had a very understanding boss at the local flower shop. In fact, she had a couple of “shop cats” that lived at the flower shop and acted as  store greeters for all the customers. Many of the customers were cat lovers themselves, and enjoyed visiting with the cats whenever they came in to make a purchase. I had been doing my best to get the word out about the adorable “miracle kitten” who needed a  home. Everyone was touched when I recounted the story to them about how he was mistaken for a still born that first day, but no one was willing to adopt him. I even tried taking him to work with me one day in hopes of having someone fall in love with him. No such luck.

We even tried getting my mother in law to take him. She was famous for having a soft heart and had already adopted several strays, so we figured, “what’s one more?”.  But the orange kitten wasn’t interested in wooing her. He wouldn’t stay in her lap and snuggle her or even act like he was interested in being loved. Even when she scratched behind his ears and under his chin he refused to purr for her. He would just wiggle and squirm and leap out of her lap and scamper away. She stated that it was obvious he didn’t want her to care for him.

And so it was out of desperation that I reluctantly brought home a new kitten.

Sickly Kitten

For this chapter I finally found a photo  that goes along with the story. It’s not a very pretty one though.

More Worries

Momma Kitty surprised us all when she started producing milk one week after the kittens were born! I had never witnessed such a thing in all the years I’d been a cat owner. The kittens easily made the change from being bottle fed to nursing on their momma. What a huge relief! The kids could now go back to getting a full nights rest and we could all feel good about the kittens getting better nourishment from their mother than what we could offer with a bottle. It seemed that all our worries were over.

But as it turned out, our days of not worrying about the kittens were short-lived. On day ten of their precious little lives they developed an infection. Their eyes had just barely started to open and then no sooner had the lid cracked a wee bit, it was crusted shut. Their sealed eyes puffed up and looked as if they were going to burst! We rubbed the swollen eye with a moist, warm cloth. Eventually the lid that was sealed shut by dried mucus and infection would part and a nasty discharge would burst forth. Our stomachs turned as we dealt with the mess but faithfully continued to cleanse their little eyes. Of course these symptoms surfaced in the evening after all the vet clinics were closed. Our budgets were already strained, so the last thing we needed was to run up an “emergency fee” at a veterinarians office. We decided to wait until morning to take them to a vet.

By morning, not only were their eyes still gooey  and disgusting, now the kittens were wheezing and sneezing, and now and again a bit of bloody mucus would appear in their nostrils. Brandy and Ryan had to work that day, so I volunteered to haul them to our favorite vet.

The doctor listened patiently as I told him all about our adventures thus far with our latest members of the family. He gently examined each kitten and then their mother. He seemed genuinely impressed at our efforts to save this stray and her unexpected litter of kittens. “They’ll be just fine” he said, offering me a comforting smile. He prescribed an oral antibiotic and told me to just keep on doing what we’d been doing. “Supplement them with bottle feedings again if you have to, but hopefully, now that the mother’s milk has come in, she’ll be able to feed them adequately on her own.” He then instructed me to make an appointment for a “follow up” exam. Thank heavens the follow ups were at no charge, because I just knew in my heart that this vet bill would be the first in a long line of vet bills to come.

The kids were thrilled to learn that the babies were going to be just fine. Syringing a bit of pink liquid down their throats twice a day was going to be a walk in the park compared to the round-the-clock bottle feedings they’d already dealt with. Now we could all just enjoy watching the kittens grow. No more worries, except for when it came time to find homes for them. What if we couldn’t find good homes? Then what? Send them to the local shelter where they would more  than likely become a victim of euthanasia after all our hard work and expense in keeping them alive? I chose not to worry about it just then. For now, I was going to enjoy watching them grow and develop.

It’s been a while since I posted any of my book. At the request of one of my blog followers, here is yet another chapter. This one is short so it wont take long to read and I don’t feel so bad about not having a photo to go with it.

High Hopes

 The next morning Brandy called to let me know how “Tiny Tim” was doing. She’d been up all night worrying about him. “I can’t believe how much smaller he is than his siblings” she commented. It was amazing how much the other kittens had grown. The small head start they had on Tiny Tim made a world of difference in their size. “Do you think he’s going to make it?” I couldn’t bring myself to honestly answer her question. “ I hope so honey. I know you are doing the best you can to save him” I replied. “ I know we all have high hopes for him”

The other four kittens were strong and had hearty appetites. Tiny Tim had seemed to gain a bit of strength compared to when we first found him, but he just never seemed to want to eat. Getting milk down him was always a struggle, but Brandy just kept on feeding him and hoping for the best. The weekend had rolled around, so the kids didn’t have to worry about work and they could devote all their time to caring for the kittens. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Brandy called me late Sunday evening to let me know that Tiny Tim had passed away. Even though he had only been with them for a few short days, he had wormed his way into their hearts. We all shed more than a few tears over his death. All of us blamed ourselves for not having found him sooner. If only we had known he was out there, we would have searched for him on the day he was born. I think more than anything, what made us sad, was the thought of how he must have suffered while abandoned there on the cold, cement floor of the garage for 48 hours.

The grave Lori and I had planned for the orange kitten was put use after all. Tiny Tim’s body was gently tucked into a shoe box filled with tissue, and then placed in the ground in the far corner of the backyard. His eulogy was short. “ we’re sorry little guy, you put up a good fight,  rest in peace.”

So I’ve finally gotten around to posting the rest of chapter four. We sure had some emotionally challenging times with “Momma Kitty” and her babies.

The next morning Brandy called to let me know  the babies had survived their second night. Their tummies were looking big and round now and Momma Kitty was actually helping to take care of them by licking them and helping them go potty, just like a good momma kitty should. Although, she didn’t seem to want to stay with her kittens. So I suggested I loan one of our many animal carriers to them so it could replace the cardboard box they were currently in. This way we could force Momma Kitty to stay with her babies. I planned to bring the carrier over when I stopped by take my turn caring for the kittens. Brandy told  me that Ryan was working a later shift that day  so I would only be needed for the afternoon feeding shifts.  Even though I knew it would be a tedious task bottle feeding four  kittens I was actually looking forward to it.

I didn’t have to wait until the afternoon to start my shift. Not long after Brandy and I hung up, the phone rang again. This time it was Ryan,  his voice filled with alarm,   “I just found another kitten out in the garage and it’s barely alive.” His voice sounded so desperate and helpless. “I’ll be right there!”  I promised and hung up the phone without even saying good-bye.

The drive to Brandy and Ryan’s house seemed like it took an eternity, but in reality it took less than ten minutes. Why I was racing to their house so quickly is a mystery to me. It’s not like I am some miracle worker. I suppose I just wanted to offer moral support. In a way, I guess I figured I wasn’t as emotionally involved as the kids were and it would be easier for me to deal with this heartbreaking situation.

When I walked through the door and into the kitchen where Ryan had the newly discovered baby kitten, I took one look at it and felt my heart ache as I reached to hold the precious kitten in my hands. His breath seemed labored and he barely had the strength to move. “So much for not being emotionally involved” I thought to myself as I struggled to hold back the tears welling in my eyes. A quick glance  at  Ryan revealed that he too was moved by this tiny creature’s misery. My daughter had lucked out and had found a man who was actually a cat lover!  “ I heard the tiniest little cry when I went out to the garage this morning”, he said as  his  voice filled with sadness. “ I couldn’t believe it when I pulled the mattress away from the wall and found this little guy laying there still alive!”  The overlooked newborn kitten had spent the first forty eight hours of his life with no nourishment or warmth. How he survived that long  on the cold, cement, garage floor was a mystery to us all. He was obviously a fighter. Even now in his weakened condition, he managed to wiggle and cry as we tried to feed him. I could hear his lungs rattle and saw bloody mucus come from his tiny little nostrils as I tried to syringe a drop of milk down his throat. I knew it would be a miracle if this kitten survived. We had already had one miracle kitten in this litter, what were the odds of having two?

Later that evening my heart was heavy.  As I thought about Momma Kitty and her new babies and all the care and heartache that was surely ahead of us, I realized the kids had really gotten more than they bargained for when they adopted one stray cat just a few months ago.

“More than they bargained for” is chapter four in my attempt at a book. Once again I find myself lacking any photographs to share for this part of the story. Back then we didn’t pause every other moment in life to snap a photograph and “update our status” ! So here is part one of chapter four.

More Than They Bargained For

The next morning I popped by to check on the babies. According to the kids, Momma Kitty had not been too willing to stay with the babies non-stop as would be expected. She was at the moment though, willing to lay in the box with the kittens and let them nurse. They were all lined up in a row, suckling as best as they could, but as I looked down at them, I was alarmed to see their concave sides. “One day old kittens should have a round belly” I expressed with alarm. It had been years and years since we’d had kittens in our own home, as I was big into keeping our pets spayed or neutered, so Brandy’s childhood memories of what was normal for newborn kittens were foggy at best. Her and Ryan simply didn’t know what to look for when dealing with new kittens. You’d think that as long as the babies were busy suckling, they were getting their dinner, right?

I reached down and gave one of Momma Kitty’s nipples a squeeze. Nothing. Not a drop of milk. Not a sign of any kind of nourishment. I checked each nipple, each time coming up empty. The kittens who had already had a rough start into this world had been left with hungry tummies for the first day of their life and their momma had nothing but empty spigots to offer them.  But, as luck would have it, I was experienced in raising orphaned kittens. I had volunteered my time  and expertise many times for a local veterinarian and had successfully bottle fed newborn kittens until they were weaned. A quick trip to the store and we were all set to start bottle feeding the babies. I taught the kids how to hold the kittens so  they were on their tummies, rather than on their backs. This position would  prevent them from choking as they struggled with the man made nipples. Some of them refused the rubber nipple, but oddly enough were willing to accept milk from a hard, plastic syringe. The babies were weak and awkward at first, but after the first couple of feedings, they began to gain strength and were soon wolfing down the warmed goats milk we were offering them.  It was going to be a lot of work feeding four hungry little mouths around the clock, but the kids were willing to sacrifice a bit of sleep during the night and I was willing to come over during the day to see to it that their tummies were kept full.

The first day of bottle feeding is when “Sassy” earned her name. She would struggle and fuss at first, refusing to eat and squawking the whole time. “Hoover”, the other “color point” kitten earned his name because he would suck down the food like a vacuum! The black one was dubbed “Jinx” and we just couldn’t seem to come up with anything original for the orange kitten, so he became known as “Orangey”.

I couldn’t find what I thought was a good break in the text, so the rest of this chapter is going to be long. So don’t bother to even start reading it if you are in a hurry. (GRIN)

"Momma Kitty" with her babies.

Lori was excited to show me the newborn kittens and I was excited to see them! She had let me into the kids basement apartment and we were now kneeling down to peer into the box where three tiny kittens lay huddled together. Momma Kitty was busy protesting that she had been locked in a room all morning. She seemed antsy and anxious to get out rather than tending to her babies as most new momma cats would. She was completely uninterested in them. I chalked it up to her being a young, inexperienced momma kitty. I held each kitty and examined it closely, making certain it appeared to be normal. I saw no sign of any defects and noted that we had two males and one female. One male was solid black, the other male and female kitten looked like twins, both of them a solid buff color. I knew from experience that they would soon develop some color on their nose, ears, tail and paws. As I admired how adorable they were I couldn’t help but wonder about the fourth kitten who hadn’t survived. I turned to Lori and inquired, “What color was the stillborn kitty, and did you manage to get it buried yet?”  “No, I haven’t buried it yet” she answered. “ I just couldn’t bring myself to do it and was hoping I could talk my dad into it when he comes by later today.”  I nodded in understanding and then offered to do it for her. “Show me where it is and I’ll take care of it for you.”

She led me out to the garage where she showed me the lifeless body of an orange kitten. He was still laying where they had originally found him, on top of an old mattress that had been leaned up against the garage wall. The placenta was still attached and the membrane around his body was covered in dirt and bits of old, dry leaves that had blown into the garage that fall. It appeared that after he was born, Momma Kitty didn’t even try to lick him clean. Instead, in her confused state, she just left him where  he had entered the world. It was with a great sense of sadness that I carefully scooped up his limp body and noted how icy cold it was. I stood in reverence for a moment as I gazed down at him and noted how tiny he was. Then as I walked out of the garage and into the sunshine, ready to hunt for just the right spot in the yard to bury him, it occurred to me that while his body was very cold and limp, it was not showing any signs of rigor. I wondered how many hours his body had been laying there? I knew it had been over 4 hours since my daughter had discovered the kittens, and no one knew how long they had been born before the kids found them. I recalled how one of my own cats had given birth to a stillborn kitten and how it’s body was stiff and obviously dead on arrival when it was born. Why wasn’t this kitten stiff yet? Could it still be alive?

As the thoughts entered my  head I moved into action! Scenes from the famous Walt Disney movie 101 Dalmatians popped into my head. “Hurry!” I exclaimed to Lori. “Run inside and get me a warm wash cloth and a pair of scissors!”  I began to pull the membrane away from the kittens mouth, “HURRY!” I instructed once more. Lori seemed confused and wasn’t moving. “This kitten might still be alive!” I shouted at her. “GO! Get a warm cloth and the scissors!” I demanded once more. As she hurried in to get the items I requested I looked down into the palms of my hands where I cradled the lifeless, tiny kitten. “ Are you alive?” I asked him in a soft whisper. “Can it be?”  I seriously doubted that he could actually be alive, but something inside me compelled me to make certain this creature was actually dead before I buried him. Instinctively, I began to massage his body. I’d never resuscitated an animal before and I was just doing what I thought made sense and what I’d seen in that silly movie. Massage him, stimulate the circulation. Just then Lori showed up with a warm, wet cloth and the scissors. I quickly washed the rest of the dirt covered membrane off  his body, then I carefully cut the umbilical chord. “Is he really alive?” Lori asked. “ I don’t know, I just have this feeling” I replied. “But don’t get your hopes up.” I held the small kitten such that the sun could shine on him in hopes of warming his cold body. Since I lacked a bulb type syringe like we use on newborn humans to clear their airways I would have to improvise.  I cupped him gently in one hand, his skull carefully nestled between my fingers. Then I let my arm drop to my side as he rested upside down in my hand. In slow, gentle motions I allowed my arm to swing like a pendulum. A small amount of fluid bubbled out of his mouth and nose. I wiped it away with the damp cloth and then instructed  Lori to fetch a dry cloth. While I waited for the dry cloth, I continued to work on him. I gently pried open his tiny mouth and carefully blew small puffs of air into it, hoping to inflate his lungs but being careful not to over do it. Cradling him in my left hand, I used my right index finger to perform what I dubbed “kitty CPR”. I knew I would have to be careful not to manhandle him. So I gently pumped on his rib cage a few times, before going back to puffing small breaths into his mouth. Lori surfaced with the dry cloth and I worked on drying his fur. I knew a dry coat would help warm him. As I dried him, I could have sworn I saw one toe on his hind leg twitch! “Did you see that?” I asked Lori. “See what?”  She hadn’t seen it and I didn’t want her to get her hopes up. So I quietly  continued to alternate rubbing his body, puffing into his mouth, and pumping his little heart with one finger.

It had been twenty, long, agonizing minutes, but I still wasn’t willing to give up. Not just yet. I just couldn’t bring myself to throw in the towel and accept the fact that this little kitten was dead. I sat stubbornly on the walkway and continued to rub the little bundle of orange fur.  Lori had decided I was nuts and had already started digging  the hole that would soon be the kitten’s final resting place. Tears filled my eyes as I gazed down at the tiny fur covered body.  “I’m sorry little one” I whispered softly as I slowly got to my feet. “ I really wanted you to make it.” As I started toward his grave a tiny cry squeaked from his lungs and filled my ears with joy!

“He’s alive” I shouted! “Cry again little one! Just one more time! Let us hear it!” I rubbed him some more and he began to wiggle and cry again. His little nose turned bright pink as oxygen finally entered his system. He squeaked again and again. They were just weak little squeaks, but they were evidence that he was indeed alive! I was ecstatic!

Lori and I celebrated as we turned away from the would be grave and headed toward the house where Momma Kitty and the rest of her babies were waiting for us. We were met at the bedroom door by a frantic Momma Kitty. I leaned down and offered the baby boy kitty for her to inspect. She sniffed and licked at him and then ran to the box where the rest of the kittens were. She gingerly jumped into her box, made one circle around the kittens, looked up at me and with one demanding meow, insisted that I put her orange baby down! I placed him carefully with his siblings and was happy to see Momma Kitty lay down with them.

I couldn’t wait to get on the phone and call Brandy and tell her that the “dead” baby was alive! My voice gushed as I told her all about how Lori and I had worked together to save him and how at the last possible moment he finally took a breath. We both shuddered at the thought of how we could have possibly buried him alive!

When writing this book, I actually gave each chapter a name rather than a number. I thought it was more descriptive and gave the readers a clue as to what would take place in the chapter.

Arrival Day

"Momma Kitty", appearing to glare at the camera. I swear, tortiseshells are the homliest cats out there! And yet somehow they are cute! It must be because no two ever look exactly alike.

It was late September of 2002 and Momma Kitty was looking quite comical. She waddled through the yard looking like she had just swallowed a football. She enjoyed laying in the grass with her tummy turned upward, almost as if to show off her unborn family. The kittens would roll around inside her as if they knew they were on display.  Watching the little bumps moving under her tightly stretched skin always brought a smile to my face. But that smile could never hide the concern in my eyes as I wondered how this petite kitty was going to handle delivery. It seemed the only part of her that grew that summer was her belly. She was still quite small compared to other cats we had owned over the years and it was difficult to believe that any day now, she would be giving birth.

When the time came, Momma Kitty did something none of us had anticipated. Rather than using the box that had become her home on the covered porch that summer, she wandered into the detached garage in the middle of the night to give birth to her kittens. My phone was ringing early on the morning of September 27^th.   Brandy’s excited voice was laced with a mixture of happiness and sadness. “Mom, the kittens were born last night in the middle of the night!” she blurted.  “But Momma Kitty must have been scared and confused, because she didn’t have them in her box. Instead, they were scattered all over the garage and one of them didn’t make it.”  “Oh, that’s too bad” I offered in a sympathetic tone. Brandy went on to tell me that they had found the kittens as they were getting ready to leave for work that morning. She was shocked and dismayed when Momma Kitty showed no interest in caring for the newborns. Upon discovering the kittens scattered about the garage they had frantically gathered them up and brought them inside where it was warm. They’d just have to worry about dealing with the landlord later. “ I have Momma Kitty and her babies locked up in our spare bedroom” she told me. “Can you go check on them later today while we’re at work?”  “Sure, I’d love to.” Then I hesitantly asked, “What did you do with the body of the one that didn’t make it?”  She informed me that Lori, the upstairs neighbor was going to take care of the stillborn kitten, “she said she’d bury it in the backyard today.” A quiet moment of sadness passed between us, then Brandy broke the silence stating that she had best get headed to work as she was already late. I wished her a safe trip and promised to go check on Momma Kitty and her babies in a couple of hours.

The rest of  this chapter will be posted tomorrow. (if I find the time)

Still no photos for this post. Do you ever look back and regret not having taken more photos? Continue to pretend this is a real novel and not a grade school book and you wont miss the photos.

From years of experience caring for our cats and their young,  my best guess at Gypsy’s age when she came into our lives was somewhere around  six months. It had been a few weeks since my daughter and her husband had been caring for her, so now I placed her age at roughly eight months. “Have you noticed any signs of her being in heat?” I quizzed my daughter, skeptical  that the round tummy I was looking at was just a product of a good meal. “She’s too young to have been in heat” Brandy persisted. “That’s not the case” I said, asserting that from what I had read and from my own personal experience, cats can come into heat way younger than any of us want to believe. I recalled one website I had found  indicated they could come into heat as young as four  or five months!  Brandy still insisted that the round belly was just a very full kitty who loved her easy meals now that she no longer had to hunt for them as a matter of survival. I, on the other hand, wasn’t convinced that our newly adopted, stray kitty wasn’t already pregnant and the kids were now on the hook for more responsibility than they realized when they first fell in love with this homely little Gypsy.

The days  rolled by and each time I stopped to visit, Gypsy looked bigger and fuller and I continued to warn the kids that I thought she was pregnant. Sure enough, one day the phone rang and Brandy announced to me “you were right, Gypsy is pregnant! They had been out in the yard with her, petting her softly as she snoozed in the cool, green grass under a shade tree when suddenly they saw movement inside that round tummy. “I wasn’t sure I had really seen a baby move” she continued, “but then I put my hand on her belly and I could feel them wiggling around in there!”

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! It felt good to be right, or did it? The realization that the responsibility of taking on one stray cat, had suddenly turned into something a lot bigger than we had anticipated. It didn‘t seem like a time to celebrate the fact that I had been right. I found myself thinking, “ I knew I should have foot the bill to get that cat spayed!”

Despite the sobering fact that there were already hundreds of unwanted kittens in the local shelters, I couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of  having newborn kittens to enjoy in the near future. Anyone who is a cat lover knows there is just nothing more precious and entertaining than a litter of kittens.  The next day I went over to visit Gypsy so I could see for myself that she truly was pregnant. As I pulled into the driveway she came sauntering out to greet me, her bulging belly clearly visible on her petite frame. “So, you are going to be a mommy soon?” I quipped as I leaned down to pet her. She trilled a cute little meow at me, clearly enjoying the attention she was receiving. As I continued to talk to her, as I often do with any kind of animal, Brandy strolled out of the back yard and joined in the conversation. “Such a naughty girl to show up pregnant at your age.”  Then she said to me, “ So it looks like you were right! I can’t believe she is going to be a  momma kitty. She just looks too young!”  Then she sat down and Gypsy crawled into her lap for a snuggle. Brandy continued, “Isn’t that right Gypsy? You are too young to be a momma kitty!”  As if to refute the comment, Gypsy rolled onto her back, exposing her round belly as she nestled between Brandy’s crossed legs. Brandy scratched and tickled the cat’s  tummy as we both let out a deep sigh. “Yep, there’s no doubt now that “Ugly Gypsy” is going to be a momma kitty. The words seemed to flow together so nicely, that I found myself referring to her as “Ugly Gypsy, Momma Kitty” from that day on. Brandy of course wasn’t too fond of that name, and it wasn’t long before Gypsy was known only as “Momma Kitty”.

I’ve been struggling with trying to figure out just how much of a chapter at one time I should post on my blog. I know that typically a blog post is shorter, but since I don’t post daily, I figured it would be OK to post more at a time. Hopefully I haven’t put all of my readers into a snoozefest. And if I have, too bad! I aint forcing you to read this tripe.

A New Name

Even though she had shown up as a thin and starving kitten, Gypsy had proven her ability to survive on her own outdoors, so I didn’t feel entirely bad when a  cardboard box with an old towel nestled in it  became her bed.  The box was placed on it’s side outdoors tucked in the corner of a covered porch where it would be out of the weather. A food and water dish were placed nearby and the kids saw to it that they were never empty. We were all concerned the first night that Gypsy  was left out on the back porch in her cardboard box. We all hoped she’d take a liking to the soft towel inside the box and be bribed into sticking around by the promise of another meal rather than wandering off to an uncertain future.

The next morning Brandy called to let me know that Gypsy had indeed stuck around! Not only had she not wandered off in the middle of the night, but she was right there at the back door, eager to be held and loved by those who had rescued her. The theory of “feed a stray and it becomes yours” had held true once more.  Gypsy knew a good thing when she found it and was not about to leave anytime soon.

As the days went by Gypsy became more and more friendly. The first few times I went to visit the kids, the instant she heard the sound of the car pulling into the graveled driveway she’d come a running to see who it was. From the moment I  stepped from my car and all the way along the path to the back door, Gypsy would be there right at my feet, anxious to rub against my legs the moment I stopped walking. Once or twice I almost accidentally kicked her across the backyard when she’d run right between my legs and trip me as I was walking! She became such a friendly kitty that she could even be found tolerating  the company of the twin toddlers from the upstairs apartment whenever they were out in the sunshine playing  in the yard.

One day when I popped by for a visit, I found Gypsy crouched in the grass, concentrating on a spot where the lawn met the curbing. Upon further inspection I discovered what appeared to be a gopher hole and Gypsy was patiently waiting for the rodent to make an appearance. “So that’s how you survived on your own before crossing paths with my daughter!” I mused while reaching down to give Gypsy a scratch behind her ears, continuing to talk to her as if she could clearly understand the human language. “ For such a small kitty you sure seem to have a huge appetite. I hear you  snarf  down your dinner like you are still starving.” My cooing tone and loving scratches had pulled her attention away from the hole in the ground and as I as I began walking in the direction of the house Gypsy leaped to her feet and ran along in front of me, leading the way to my daughters door, which she had learned was always my destination whenever I came by for a visit.

As she bounded along in front of me, I couldn’t help but notice how round her tummy was. My daughter answered the door just as I was reaching down to scoop Gypsy into my arms. “This kitty sure has a fat belly!” I proclaimed as I rolled her onto her back and cradled her in my arms. “yeah, I know. We have to refill her dish  several times a day.” Then my daughter added,  “ I can’t believe what a little pig she is. She hasn’t figured out yet that she’s not starving anymore.”  I rubbed her tummy as I continued to hold her, pleased that she was willing to snuggle in my arms for so long. “You know “ I said cautiously, “I hate to say this out loud, but she almost looks pregnant.”  “No way!” my daughter objected, “she’s just a kitten!”

I’ll post the rest of this chapter later. Sorry no picture for this post. Pretend it’s a serious “grown up” novel, they never have pictures!