Staying aliiiive

We almost lost Madame LaFloof on Saturday. She had been a finicky eater for a day and then went limp. She had no muscle tone. She was breathing and opening her little mouth to cry but no sound came out. It was heartbreaking. Since it happened around midnight, I went online and diagnosed her (wrongly) as being a “failing kitten”. Prognostic: very bad. The Montgomery County Animal Shelter doesn’t have a 24-hour clinic, so I tried to locate a private facility where I could take her. Thanks to Hurricane Harvey, the Humble clinic is closed, they were flooded. The closest is in the Woodlands, 45 minutes away. That was very bad news, because, in all honesty, I was so tired, so dang tired, and in a panic, that I was not capable of driving there. I wasn’t going to put everybody in jeopardy. Minimize the risks. The next best option is to wait, give her a reiki massage, and go to the shelter the next morning at 9.

Wouldn’t you know, that little Floof proved me wrong, and I love her for that. We brought her to the shelter in a shoe box and she was lifting her head. The vet listened to me and figured out it was hypoglycemia. Little Floof got a shot of something or other, a prescription for Karo syrup (not a paper prescription though!) and off we went. But not before showing the staff that we are capable of raising healthy kittens, by showing off the other two Floofs we had brought along in the carrier (they came because I wasn’t sure how long the visit would take and didn’t want them to miss a feeding).

Yeah for White Floof!

I know I am only her caregiver, not her mommy, not her forever family. She’s not mine to keep. She will go to a good home in a few weeks. But for a few hours, I was heartbroken. I was acting half on crisis mode (what are the immediate needs and solutions) and half on emotions. I was planning her little burial, deciding what to wrap her in. My husband and I agreed that if the worse happened at the vet, we were bringing her home.

Two days later, she’s adorable, a feisty little bundle of wiggles, who already has lost one of her nine lives!


A kitten and its toothbrush

Madame LaFloof, the littlest of them all, is a finicky eater.  One time yes, two times no.  It takes a while to get a few milliliters of milk in her little tummy.  Her appetite is inversely proportional to her screaming, which is however a good sign. 

I follow work of the KittenLady very closely and found a potential solution to calming our little girl down: a toothbrush.

That baby girl must be missing her momma a whole lot, and searches for milk in her siblings’s genitals.  It’s gross!  First she smells of pee on her head, which is where we give her kisses, and then the two other Floofs have wet butts until it’s feeding time.

Maybe that’s why she’s not hungry!

Day 5 – I think

I have lost track of time.  I am so tired.  So so tired. Yet there is a feeling of accomplishing something nice.  Waking up every 2 hours to feed the Floofs, without a night break is exhausting. Hubby is helping a lot.  He takes over some feedings and is the cuddler in chief.  He’s awesome.

All The Floofs are alive.  The little white one was very much underweight but has shot up yesterday, putting on a full 14 grams in a day.  She has been named Madame LaFloof.  I had a dream that she had died due to constipation, so now we check them all very carefully for poop.  And seeing poop is a victory, even if you have to manually extract it.  Yuck, yet Yeah…

The other two kittens are still nameless.  Wendy didn’t stick.

Yesterday, after weighing, cleaning and feeding, we had their first photo shoot.  I think I heard one whispering “I am ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille”.

Madame LaFloof
Madame LaFloof
The Black FloofThe Orange Floof

Meet The Floofs

1pm. I get a text: “just in” with a picture of a kitten.

Run to the car I go. Drive off. Come back to the house I must because I forgot the cat carrier.

Get to the animal shelter. And I meet three “rats” in a box. Tiny rats. Much smaller than I expected.

Boom. My soul is happy. I am going to be a kitty mommy.

I started feeding them while the paperwork was being filled out. Honestly, I have no idea what I signed. I may very well have given my house away!  Who reads those things anyway? Damned lawyers 😉

For now they are “The Floofs”. No reason why. A white one, an orange one, and a black one. Don’t ask if they are male or female. I checked. No clue!

I named the orange one Wendy, because I went to Wendy’s on the way back and stacked up on burgers since I will be house bound for a while. The black one has become “Goulu” which means “one who eats a lot” in French. The white one doesn’t have a name yet. I have decided she’s a girl. And she’s the smallest of the litter, at 65 grams, which is about the weight of 2 fun size Snickers. I will have to monitor her carefully since she didn’t eat well. But she’s got a set of lungs on her!

Bye bye sleep!