Boo died today, at 12:35pm. He spent the morning on my chest while I was reading, making little noises, crawling back towards my neck before falling asleep. At noon, I got out of bed (don’t judge me until you feed bottle kittens around the clock) to get ready to take the whole crew to the vet. When I picked him up, he died in my hands, just like that.
Boo is the only one we had really named. He came with nasty flea bites on his tail. He had booboos on his tail, hence Boo.
He was the biggest of the three, strong and always hungry, the first to learn to latch on the nipple. Yesterday, he started being finicky, and had diarrhea. At midnight, my husband woke me up because Boo was refusing food. We got some Pedialyte to rehydrate him. We planned on being at the clinic when they opened at 1:00pm. Boo didn’t make it.
It was none of the common parasites. Kittens are fragile creatures and can take a turn for the worse in a matter of hours. I don’t even have a picture of him with his eyes open.
We are naming the other ones The Boos. You are gone Baby Boo, but you will not be forgotten.