My Life

On Sunday, I gave Foster Mom Sue (Ariel and Kittens) a break.  A week ago yesterday, five babies were born on the ground outside and a kind man scooped them up, mother took off (he is trying to trap her), and brought them into my rescue.  Sue began bottle feeding round the clock, and I took over yesterday.  They are very tiny.  But eating, and doing their business.  I can't keep up with replacing fleece blankets.  And they smell from rolling over and sleeping in their urine stained blankets.  I've changed them four times now.  Had to wash the kittens as best as I could with a damp towel.  This is hard work folks.

On Saturday I picked up Petunia and her six babies from my sister's house to Foster Mom Jenn's house, where we sat and identified the kittens gender, and named them!  Jenn is a great photographer, among many other talents, and will surely be sending pictures of each individually with their names.  They are ADORABLE.

Petunia's Babies

Lets not forget Ariel, who has been nursing her four kittens since they were born on March 30th.  Foster Mom Sue suspects Ariel is in heat now.  It will be soon that I secure an appointment for her to be spayed.  Kittens are weaning - learning how to eat the mombabycat food - mixed with KMR, and they are eating the hard stuff too.  And using the litter box.  So far, KitKat and Peep are spoken for.  Jelly Bean and Henry are not.

I've been out on the route every day now.   Saturday Sheryl is very efficient, looking into each shelter to see if there are kittens.  Kings is hobbling along with a bad leg.  Boy, if he goes, I don't know what I will do.

The kittens in the shelter on Webster - Kings said he could touch them.  Momma is a black cat, not the black and white I suspected.  She runs out each morning and watches from a distance.  I still do NOT have a plan.

Have a great day.

The Voice of the Voiceless
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

So many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind
Is all the sad world needs.

I am the voice of the voiceless:
Through me, the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world’s ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.

Oh shame on the mothers of mortals
Who have not stopped to teach
Of the sorrow that lies in dear, dumb eyes,
The sorrow that has no speech.

The same Power formed the sparrow
That fashioned man - the King;
The God of the whole gave a living soul
To furred and to feathered thing.

And I am my brother’s keeper,
And I will fight his fight;
And speak the word for beast and bird
Till the world shall set things right.