Out, Standing In Her Field

As of 9:15am EDT, we have kittens. Two so far, although I fear for the first kitten, a red tabby. It wasn’t breathing when I discovered them (in the box I provided), so I gave it a bit of CPR. It’s breathing and crying, but not moving very much, unlike Kitten #2 (a tortie) who popped out of the chute screaming and wiggling as soon as her head was clear of the sac. A pair of lungs on that one; I can hear her all the way in the computer room.

Update: The head count as of 12:15pm EDT is at least four. There may be a fifth buried under all its sibling, but since no one will stop wriggling long enough to count, I can’t tell, and Kaylee appears to be preparing for yet another. Number One is still in there trying although its teat radar seems to be malfunctioning. It looks like it was a difficult birth; the “wee mite” is as long as my hand and quite a bit larger than the others. I may have to resort to hand feeding to keep it alive.

Update 5:30pm EDT: There was, in fact, a fifth kitten. Unfortunately, it didn’t arrive until after 4:00pm and was stillborn. Poor Kaylee was quite frantic during those hours and was bleeding; I could leave the hall in front of the closet for more than a few seconds at a time before she would come looking for me, howling all the while. Now that the dead kitten has been expelled, she’s much more calm, and the bleeding is finally slowing. Number One has finally gotten with the program and is doing its part, suckling like crazy to make up for lost time.

So, unless something untoward happens, the final count is four, one red tabby, one tortie, one orange and white, and one white with black spots. Provisional names are Number One, Stripe, Notdot, and Hamster. Except for the tortie, genders unknown…

Thanks to Jen of Crafting Jen who came and held my hand this afternoon to keep me in line.

I’ve been admonished to blog more often, in spite of the fact that my life is generally pretty boring, and I’m plum of of political outrage at the moment. I haven’t even got up the get-go to follow the cat around with the camera…

Speaking of whom…

Some months ago I posted a picture of a young cat who came to visit. Attempts to return her to her owners were a failure: even time we’d send her back, she’d bolt and wind up on our balcony again. Once she even persuaded someone to let her into the building and we found her howling on the doorstep. That’ll teach us to try to deny her.

So, now her name is Kaylee, and she’s costing us a fortune in cat food.

Of course, the last time she got away from her former owners (before everybody gave up and decided that here was where she was bound and determined to be), she was in the midst of a round of major cat-crazies. It soon became apparent that she was, that is, is pregnant. The vet I talked to about getting her repaired, post haste, refused. Something about the surgery being more difficult, or some other bullshit. Never mind there’s a population explosion going on, cat-wise, we simply can’t abort the wee mites…

Fine. So now I have this hugely pregnant cat, really hardly more than a kitten herself. She’s not taking this gracefully; she’s quite annoyed that she can’t shinny up the curtains any more, and she demands to be fed twice as much as any normal cat could consume. Eating for two — or maybe half a dozen — I suppose.

I’ve never attended a cat-birth before. I have no idea what to expect. The only cat care book in my possession, The Natural Cat, has only one thing to say on the subject: prevent your cat from becoming pregnant. She author doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that sometimes accidents happen, or you may actually be breeding cats, or you acquire a cat already in that state, and maybe some advice might be in order. Grumph…

Anyway… I’m not 100% sure how far along she is — other than she looks like she’s swallowed a basketball. Could be today, or a couple of weeks. She allowed me to place my hand on her belly last night, and I felt the kittens move. However, she has not started looking for a nest, and shows no interest at the boxes I’ve set up for her in various closets. I suppose she’ll have ‘em in the middle of my bed…

Reesie came back.

I tried to take her home, but she was not well-pleased; she fought and struggled, and finally gave me such a whack in the face hissing and spitting all the while.

Her people were not at home, but a large tuxedo cat was sitting on the doorstep. Reesie seemed terrified of him. The second I put her down, she high-tailed it (literally) back across the parking lot — towards my apartment.

So, what to do? I went down to the office and got the people’s contact information. I will call them later in the afternoon and inform them that their cat is here, and that’s she’s afraid to go home. If they can’t keep her inside (and they obviously have at least one toddler — the terror of many a cat), then the next time I find her on the balcony, I’m taking her to a shelter so that she can find a home where they will take proper care of her.

Naturally, I won’t tell them where that shelter is….

I’ve seen this kitten wandering around the building for a while, and have caught her up on my balcony a couple of times.

It was cold and snowy today, so I opened the door, and she came right in. Didn’t want to go back out again, either. I’m putting up posters in hopes that her owners will come and pick her up.

Well, not so much a hope. I’d love to keep her, but…

I stopped being the “Cat Woman of Woodland Heights” some years ago because it was too hard to part with my rescues. This one will be hard unless her people come for her; I’ve missed Jessica way too much.

Update: Her name is Reesie. Her people called this morning and came to get her. Seems they have a hard time keeping their cats inside. I suspect that Reesie likes being an only cat, and will probably be back to visit….

Peanut Brain the squirrel has been digging up my potted plants again. She is searching for the peanuts she thinks she had buried there last winter. However, she won’t find any: I removed them all when doing my spring planting. And yet, in spite of never having found a single peanut in any of the pots, she continues to dig, searching in vain for her stash.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.

The squirrel does the same thing over and over, expecting different results.

Therefor, the squirrel must be insane.