When Cindy cautioned me that the mortality rate for bottle-raised kittens is 50%, I assured her I was tough.
“I was a wildlife rehabilitator for ten years,” I told her. “I saw things die all the time. I had to euthanize birds. I’m OK.”
“Kittens are different,” she warned me.
I had never raised a baby kitten on a bottle. I’ve help raise tiny baby birds just bigger than your thumbnail for over ten years. I was pretty good at that, so I thought I’d be good at raising a kitten. And I would have help. I had Sofie. Single orphan kittens – Singletons, the staff calls them – are notoriously bad mannered and bitey, not being socialized with siblings or parent to learn how to play appropriately. Sofie, I thought, would help teach manners to a Singleton.
I would raise her, love her, care for her and then give her up to be adopted, after eight weeks or so. That was the idea, anyway. That’s what fosters do.
But I was fiercely in love with her. After this picture, I ran to Cindy and asked if the 50% mortality window was still open. I wished my capacity for love were that, because if she died I would be devastated. Not like a baby wild bird at all.
“Kittens are different,” she warned me.
I had never raised a baby kitten on a bottle. I’ve help raise tiny baby birds just bigger than your thumbnail for over ten years. I was pretty good at that, so I thought I’d be good at raising a kitten. And I would have help. I had Sofie. Single orphan kittens – Singletons, the staff calls them – are notoriously bad mannered and bitey, not being socialized with siblings or parent to learn how to play appropriately. Sofie, I thought, would help teach manners to a Singleton.
I would raise her, love her, care for her and then give her up to be adopted, after eight weeks or so. That was the idea, anyway. That’s what fosters do.
Here is the picture when I realized I was in trouble:
She was 3 weeks old and was with me ten days. By then she was carefully named – Jellybelly – and had an array of toys, also each named. I had decided to document her kittenhood “for her future parents;” I would take pictures and videos over the course of the next two months, then burn them to DVD and give them to her adoptive parent.
But I was fiercely in love with her. After this picture, I ran to Cindy and asked if the 50% mortality window was still open. I wished my capacity for love were that, because if she died I would be devastated. Not like a baby wild bird at all.
