Ok, so we’re full …… we know we’re full.    It’s chaotic around here with the Zeds bouncing around, and the two oldies, and Betty trying cope with kittens who are deeply reluctant to being weaned.  Not to mention the residents with Sooty needing to be kept in still, and Flipper collecting wildlife.  And my goodness its hot, don’t know what we’d do without our Flat Cat screens to allow us to open the windows some of the time at least.

B Team refusing to grow up

However at the weekend we got a message from a lovely woman who was trying to help a mum and three kittens whom her dog had discovered living in their shed. All the other rescues were full too, she’d rung everyone ….. and finally found us on a google search. I ended up going out to check if mum was chipped. On the one hand it was a perfectly sensible first step in trying to help … on the other hand, I knew it was fatal. It’s one thing taking a deep breath and replying to an email saying “I’m sorry but we’re completely full …. here’s a list of other rescues to try …. ”    It’s quite another actually seeing a very young mum in the corner of a shed doing her best to protect her babies.   The woman had been doing her best to care for them,  had started feeding them as soon as she knew they were there, and done her utmost to protect them and get help, but the little ones were at risk of being taken by a fox and mum at risk of being pregnant again.  This lady had her own difficult personal situation to deal with and couldn’t do any more than she was doing.

mum with kits in shed

The half formulated plan to leave them there but fund mum’s spay and sort out rehoming from there just dissolved. It just wasn’t safe for them to stay where they were. We brought them home and put them in a crate in the lounge.

A day later mum hadn’t eaten or used her litter tray … too stressed with the Zeds bouncing around and the residents grumbling about the seemingly endless stream of new arrivals. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so Daisy and the little Dots are now settling very happily into my bedroom whilst I settle on the sofa.

She’s the most beautiful little girl …. gorrrrrrgeous pale green eyes and a lovely gentle nature. Vet thinks she’s not a year old yet, poor little thing. Her kits are adorable …. and thankfully arrived in rescue early enough to learn to get used to humans.

delilah

dexter

dotty

I’ve just realised that we haven’t mentioned the Zeds here on our blog.  Strange how we’ve managed to forget them when they’re mostly right here in front of us, using the keyboard as a trampoline.   They arrived about 3 weeks ago, aged 5-6 weeks, having been born in a shed.   Mum was already pregnant again and ran off when people tried to catch the family to bring them in to rescue ….. not an ideal situation but the little ones came into rescue on their own.  [Thankfully mum has since been trapped and is now in foster care]

We went to collect them, expecting some fierce hissing and spitting …. and rather a lot of fleas.  Oddly enough there was none of it.   They were a bit nervous but otherwise fine.  Their shy-ness lasted about 24 hours, at which point they emerged from their igloo ready to take on the world – despite the residents being rather less than welcoming.

I have to confess a secret preference for tom kittens, they’re somehow more easy going and affectionate than little girls.  These two are no exception … absolutely adorable little boys.    The residents have grudgingly accepted that they’re here for a while.

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In some ways they’re quite different characters – Zacchaeus is the calmer more sensible one (RELATIVELY …. we ARE talking kittens here) and more likely to do as he’s told,   whereas Zebedee is just a complete crazy live wire.    The times they just settle down to sleep are probably the best.

Our Betty is pretty clearly a first time mum ….. the look of shock on her face as she went into labour said it all.    She gave birth to them and cleaned them and sorted them out, but then quietly confided in me that she hadn’t really been looking to start a family yet.  She’s only young herself and was hoping to go to college and follow her dream of studying creative arts.

Her first challenge was to be able to get into the bed with all 5 of them without sitting on one of them.  She’d clamber in, settle herself down only to find one or two of them squealing and trying to wriggle out from under her.  Standing up and weighing up the situation, she’d turn round a bit, then settle down again, this time squashing the other kits.  She was clearly  flummoxed by it and decided the best plan was to stay out the bed most of the time, and just pop in occasionally to feed … but stay sitting up …so she didn’t crush anyone.

I was a little concerned because when I went into her bedroom she was never with the kits.   Nevertheless, they were always clean (I imagined her diving in with a handful of baby wipes, then making a swift exit),  were clearly growing, and mostly seemed contented and sleeping.  Nothing really to trigger a referral to Kitten Protection.

If I’ve picked the kits up she’s had a quick look to make sure they’re ok and then got on with eating her supper.  It’s ok that she’s not a mumsy sort of mum.  In my limited experience I’ve found that the mums who start by being quite detached often go on to care for and feed their kits quite a long while after the more involved mums have started packing the kittens sandwiches in a map and showing them the door.

This evening was quite different.  They’ve opened their eyes, but one eye on a ginger kit and another on black kit was still glued together.  I got some cooled boiled water and cotton pads and went in to bathe their eyes.  Betty was on my case, wanting to know what evidence there was that this was helpful, what possible side effects there could be, exactly what my future care plan was going to be.   I explained that a possible side effect was that the kitten could have a damp head for a few  minutes, and that we may be repeating the treatment in the morning.  Bless her.

It’s been a relief this last week to have a happier tail of kittens to tell.   Little stray, Betty, arrived with us about three weeks ago.  Some lovely caring young women had found her stray in their garden and offered temporary shelter, then got her a place at 8 Lives.   As ever we were full, but knowing that Jack was off to his smart new home in a few days time, and the weather forecast was pretty poor, we settled her into the conservatory and hoped she’d hang on to her kits until Jack was in his new home and Betty could have his bedroom.

trying to get help before coming into rescue

It’s possible that we suggested hanging on to her kits a little too strongly, as she moved into Jack’s freshly vacated bedroom and nearly a week later still hadn’t given birth.   The nightmare of Maya and her kits, and tails from other rescue friends about their young rescue cats having birth problems and needing C sections, sent us running off to see Dr Alistair.   He reassured us that apart from a few ear mites and worms, all was well and the babies would be along shortly.  Distressingly the products for worms and ear mites can’t be safely used in pregnancy, so we’d had to stand helplessly by while poor Bet clawed at her ears.

getting bigger

… and bigger

Having checked on Bet very regularly since she arrived, it was clear that last Saturday morning something was different.   She was in her little crib and quite flustered.  I’m sure she’s a first time mum – the look of confusion and pain on her face was heart breaking.  She purred a lot, and then growled, and then cried with pain … and of course glared at me thinking I was causing it.   It was a scary few moments, flashbacks to the trauma of Chi’s kittens, phone clutched in hand with vet on speed dial …. thank goodness it was Saturday morning and I was home and vets was open.

Moments later a little ginger body had arrived and was being cleaned up.  His little cries brought back the birth of Max, still so recent.  Thankfully Betty was in a much better position to care for her kits than Maya had been.  Shortly afterwards, a little more growling, and a little black and white person entered the world.   All cleaned up and sorted.    I was expecting more kits, and possibly an odd number given Bet’s size and shape.  However after a couple of hours nothing else had happened and I took my chance to go get some lunch.

first two babies

Returning about half an hour later, I heard Betty growling as I opened the door.   My first thought was that despite being sweet and friendly up to this point, she’d become very protective over her kits.   When I saw her it was clear they were more growls of pain … and very soon a little black kit made his debut, followed very swiftly by another black and white kit.   Things settled down.  All cleaned up, kits fluffed up (which made me realised just how prem Max must have been).   So I was right that she had more than two kits, but wrong about the odd number.  Sat for a long while, chatting to her and admiring them, feeding her in her bed so she didn’t have to get up and leave them.   Then went to fetch some clean bedding …. and we sat a while again, just total awe at how gorgeous and tiny and perfect they all were.  I explained what I wanted to do, about moving them a little so I could put new bedding in, but Bet laid down again on the dirty bedding, so I waited.  More growling ….. and my conviction that we were having an odd number of kits was proved correct as a tiny pale ginger kit slipped into the world.

full set of kits

So, after a night with no sleep we thought hearing that first cry might be an auditory hallucination, or a dream, or a miracle, and left us a bit dazed.   The second cry sent us scrambling into action.   The second kit had clearly gone to the bridge though her presence relieved the fear that there were unborn babes trapped inside Maya.   However the dark little head we’d seen the previous night started squirming and squeaking at our touch.   We bundled him up in fleeces and with a little wheat bag, and with one arm free, began re-making formula.

Had the heartbreaking job of burying Minim, and really not being sure how closed to leave her grave in case her brother needed to join her soon. We got a little formula into the tiny person who came to be known as Max, but it was hard to keep him warm and in the end we rushed down to the vets for help. Lovely nurse Lauren carried him around and got him warm. It dawned on us that the reason he wasn’t drying out and fluffing up like most new born kits was that he was really rather premature. He had a little fur on his back, but his front was quite naked, and his arms and legs almost translucent.

For the next 48 hours we lived and breathed little Max. Tiny tiny amounts of formula going into him, almost constant cuddles to keep him warm, and very gentle attempts to toilet him. When we had to take little Niki to her new home, our amazing child-proofer Erin and her mun Sally looked after him. The residents got on board and either through concern, cussedness or curiosity got seriously involved.

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On Sunday 1pm nurse Rosy came from the vets to check up on him … no charge, just because she cares, because she’s part of an amazing vet surgery. Max was well hydrated and despite being tiny and premmy he was doing pretty well. We made plans about day care for when I went back to work on Tuesday. It’s a weird feeling – part of me fears he won’t survive the next half hour, part of me has to worry about how to manage his care for the rest of the week.

Sally & Erin popped round in the afternoon ….. with cake. It was at that point I realised I’d not eaten since Friday evening and not had a drink since I picked Max up from Sal’s on Saturday evening. So at 3pm, Sal and Erin took Max to their’s to give me a break. Away from the anxiety of every breath of Max I had a blissful couple of hours sleep. They texted me at 5pm because he was restless and mouthing for his bottle. I scurried round to collect him,

The little guy had a good feed at 5:30 and after that I spent some time on facebook looking for more expert advice about hand rearing premmy kittens, or getting surrogate mother. Had a couple of options in the pipeline, though they would have involved a bit of a road trip for us. At 7pm Max wasn’t so interested in his feed. He’d been asleep and not shouting for food, so I wrapped him up with his fleece and wheatie bag and we settled down for cuddles until he woke up properly for a feed.

Cuddling, and typing one hand on facebook to sort out our next move, I checked down yet again on Max …….

My heart was broken ……. he’d slipped to the bridge without a word.   There’s nothing quite like the pain of a dead baby in your arms.  We’re a week on as I’m writing this, in some ways the focus has changed as we have a new pregnant kit with us, but the agony of losing this babe will be raw for a long while to come.