It’s Good Friday
I’m not sure if it’s the day – being Good Friday as I am waaaay beyond PMS but I found myself being a bit teary driving back from Marlys’s after feeding the kittens this morning. The remaining 4 tuxedos seem to be active and I was pleased that I didn’t have to open their little mouths and spoon in the food. They lapped the food from the spoon and later, the bowl. Just so adorable. I hope they all survive.
We joke about the ‘heroin’ spoon I have. It is a little spoon that I purchased in South America in 1971. Rather than an oval shape, the spoon is tiny and round, hence the nickname. When I buffered a litter with one kitten that was not thriving, I fed Crissy using that spoon. It was small enough to put into her mouth. Marlys and Carol would come over and help – prying her mouth open and spooning in food. We really didn’t know what we were doing at the time and still joke about the ‘heroin’ spoon but it saved her. That was 5 years ago….I kept Crissy and she doesn’t look as though she’s missed any meals!
For the first time this morning, I dared stay a bit to watch the tuxedos play….tumbling, chasing each other, discovering what their little paws could do, full of joy and awe and I smiled as I watched them use the litter box. How cute is that, these little balls of fluff clamouring into the box to relieve themselves.
Tricia shared that despite her nursing experience, she found it emotionally difficult to care for sick kittens as you carry the worry with you…and then struggle with the memories when they die. It takes a special person to care for sick kittens and not all of us have that gift. It’s good that we all know our strengths and balance each other.
I too find it difficult. My secret to save my heart? Even when feeding the kittens, I don’t look into their eyes. I do on a superficial level but I don’t look deep into their eyes. I avoid that, because when you do, you see their little soul, their innocence, their desire to live and their absolute trust. You connect. You develop a relationship. Still, when you hear they have died, it does cut your heart and you bleed a little, but the little face and those trusting eyes don’t haunt you…too much.
….and the final wee one born from the grey white mom, died. Five little lives. Lyn fought long and hard for weeks to save them but to no avail.
Her heart aches because in the feeding and cleaning and nursing and loving, Lyn looked deep into their souls.
This entry was posted on Saturday, April 4th, 2015 at 12:50 am
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