It's all about kittens

June 29, 2014

I've been very busy with a litter of kittens! We volunteered to foster a litter for the Danbury Animal Welfare Society (DAWS) and, I must say, we had no idea how much work would be involved! This, of course, is why kittens are so darn cute. Cuteness serves as a sort of camouflage: "Yes, we are a poopy, needy mess, but we are so tiny and adorable."

When we brought them home they were just shy of three weeks old. Tiny little rat-kittens. And Mama was sick with Giardia, which meant diarrhea everywhere in "their" room, which used to be called "the dining room." When I say everywhere, I really mean it. She is very good about using the litter box to pee, but she will not use it for poo. Seriously. We cleared out lots of stuff and shoved it all into the living room, which is no longer livable. We even put the dining table in there and turned it on its side to make a barrier so Mama can't go in there. (Did I mention she has diarrhea everywhere she goes?)

WHAT WAS IN THE DINING ROOM HAS NOW SPILLED INTO THE LIVING ROOM.

Mama is a very sweet girl. The poor thing was found huddled under a porch with her litter. She must have been terrified, especially since she is obviously not a feral cat. Her sweet disposition and friendliness tells us she was somebody's pet. Apparently her owner just dumped her when she became inconvenient.

If you can't take care of your pet, find her another home! If you can't find her another home, at least take her to a shelter. That's why shelters exist. Don't just abandon a helpless animal.

MAMA IS A SWEETHEART AND HER BABIES LOVE TO CUDDLE WITH HER.

One of the kittens became sick, probably with what is called "Fading Kitten Syndrome." His weight dropped from .6 lb to .4 lb. One of his eyes was plastered shut and the other one looked awful. He was lethargic and too weak to claim his rightful place in the nursing line-up. We were so worried about him.

The vet injected fluids under his skin, because he was severely dehydrated. Adeline fed him by hand, with a special supplement she had to mix before each feeding. We kept him warm - space heater, hot water bottle, and lots of cuddling. Now he is as energetic as any of them and his weight is up to .85 lb. Happy.

We call him Little Tiny One, which was also the name of a doll Adeline carried everywhere when she was a one-year-old.

WE ALMOST LOST LITTLE TINY ONE. HE ADORES ADELINE, WHO NURSED HIM BACK TO HEALTH. SHE LITERALLY SAVED HIS LIFE.

BLACKIE HAS AN "M" ON HIS FOREHEAD. IS THAT AN "M" AS IN MINE? PHOTO CREDIT: ADELINE JESSICA CRITES-MOORE — BLACKIE HAS AN "M" ON HIS FOREHEAD. IS THAT AN "M" AS IN *MINE*? PHOTO CREDIT: ADELINE JESSICA CRITES-MOORE

We are now at the stage where the kitties are starting to wean themselves off of Mama (I'm pretty sure she likes that) and they are exploring and playing. Did I mention they also have diarrhea? No? It doesn't really matter - we'll give them their medicine and not really mind at all. And you know why: because they are so incredibly, amusingly, fuzzily, tiny and adorable!

KITTENS ARE STARTING TO EXPLORE AND PLAY.

One Last Day

April 13, 2014

A Dog's Life by Daniel Groves

A stay of execution: one last day,
your day, old Everydog, then, as they say,
or as we say (a new trick to avoid
finalities implicit in destroyed),
you have to be put down, or put to sleep—
the very dog who, once, would fight to keep
from putting down, despite our shouts, a shoe
until he gnawed it to the sole, and who
would sit up, through our sleepless nights, to bark
away some menace looming in the dark.

Can you pick up the sense of all this talk?
Or do you still just listen for a walk,
or else, the ultimate reward, a car?—
My God, tomorrow's ride . . . Well, here we are,
right now. You stare at me and wag your tail.
I stare back, dog-like, big and dumb. Words fail.
No more commands, ignore my monologue,
go wander off. Good dog. You're a good dog.
And you could never master, anyway,
the execution, as it were, of Stay

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)

Something doesn't happen as it should

April 12, 2014

CAT IN AN EMPTY APARTMENT by Wisława Szymborska
translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak and Clare Cavanagh

Die—you can’t do that to a cat.
Since what can a cat do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls?
Rub up against the furniture?
Nothing seems different here
but nothing is the same.
Nothing’s been moved
but there’s more space.
And at nighttime no lamps are lit.

Footsteps on the staircase,
but they’re new ones.
The hand that puts fish on the saucer
has changed, too.

Something doesn’t start
at its usual time.
Something doesn’t happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared.

Every closet’s been examined.
Every shelf has been explored.
Excavations under the carpet turned up nothing.
A commandment was even broken:
papers scattered everywhere.
What remains to be done.
Just sleep and wait.

Just wait till he turns up,
just let him show his face.
Will he ever get a lesson
on what not to do to a cat.
Sidle toward him
as if unwilling
and ever so slow
on visibly offended paws,
and no leaps or squeals at least to start.