Steve and I brought home three new cats on Friday. They're not ours to keep -- we're just borrowing them until they are weaned from their bottles. Their mother was unable to care for them, and the shelter had tried mixing them into a new litter. Of six. So that poor lady cat was trying to nurse nine kittens. It didn't work.
We have named them Dusty, Lucky and Ned (after the Three Amigos, one of our favorite comedies.) It is a lot of work taking care of baby kittens. Did you know you have to "help" (ahem) them (gulp) pee and poop? Mother cats lick the babies all over, and when their nether regions get licked, it encourages them to void (pee or poo.) So, basically, the boys have learned to do the pottie dance with a paper towel getting rubbed on their bottoms. We sing a little song about it.
They are almost three weeks old and getting their baby teeth. Every time they wake up from a nap, they are a little bit bigger. They're getting around on all fours now (although Steve said they walk like AT-AT's -- those big pachydermic-lookin' ships/tanks/whatever from The Empire Strikes Back.)
It has been interesting seeing the other cats' reactions to the kittens. Kitty doesn't like other cats, generally, so she just walks past and gives a dissatisfied grumble now and then. Boo hissed once, and she just hides now when the babies are getting fed. Ruby and Giblet, still almost kittens themselves, are more curious. Giblet sat by me yesterday while I fed them, keeping one paw on my leg, I guess in quiet support of the cause.
We'll only have them a couple of weeks, but I am hoping our labor helps three different families get twenty years each of love and companionship from these sweet little boys. That's sixty years of happy! Definitely worth some spilled milk and pee on my hands.