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The Squee Diaries. Ch 9. How Do I Love Thee?

The kittens are eight weeks old. Some of them hit the two pound mark indicating the time has come to get them ready to be adopted. They're big enough to be spayed/neutered and begin getting their appropriate vaccinations. I'll put photos and a description of each one on Petfinder and in the local paper, The Newtown Bee. I'm giving myself an excuse to wait until after 8/6 to do this because on that date my rescue, Kitten Associates is taking part in a National Fundraiser called BarkAid and my brain is already over-taxed. Best not add the stress of getting the kittens ready to go…also it means I just came up with a lame excuse to keep them here a bit longer.

In honor of my beloveds-a love letter to them, which I hope will help you understand why fostering kittens is one of the best jobs anyone could ever have and why I hope everyone will join me in helping save lives by offering to foster kittens in your home town.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh Joey.

I love that you are everything in a big cat's body, but in a tiny, precious package. From your delicate, barely visible whiskers to your niblet-sized toes, all in perfect proportion to what you will be one day become.

I love to witness the blossoming of your shape from a formless furry blob into a refined feline. From watching your ear buds open to hear the first sounds or the shape of your tail change from a stubby triangle to a magical rudder. I never tire seeing your shaky, unsure steps become sure-footed and completely carefree. Every aspect of your day is about exploration, challenges, achievement and endless joy. Because you don't have to worry about where your next meal will come from or fear predators nearby, your life can be what I wish my life was—one that celebrates the wonder of simply being who you are without fear.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Lil' Gracey ponders her paw.

I love that you reflect back to me the love I give to you. After a time our love becomes a purring resonance without a source. It travels back and forth between us without effort. It just is, pure and complete.

You trust me to care for you as you need to be cared for, with respect to your needs and never-waving concern for your well being. I'm not afraid of the responsibility but I am scared, deep-down, that I will miss something and you will suffer because I didn't notice the signs or symptoms. My goal is to never cause you to suffer even if I can't prevent my own suffering.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Petey gets ready to run for it.

I love your firsts—your first purr, the first time you look into my eyes and recognize me as a friend, the first time you react to my voice by running over to be near me. I love it when you reach up to me, asking to be held. It tells me I did the right thing for you because if you can love me, then you will love your new family, too, one day.

I love giving you challenges, but in measured amounts. I don't push you too far, just a little bit every day, so every day you can be more confident in the world whose boundaries grow further and further away from our little foster room nest. I know I can't contain you, so I don't try. You must grow beyond this little space to claim a new one for your self some day.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mellie turns to jelly.

I love to watch you play. I'm tempted to believe that watching you could cure cancer as you hop backwards with your back arched, practicing your menacing moves. It just comes off as the scatter-brained antics of a clown. I can't stop smiling as you race past me to jump onto your sibling, turning into a furry tumbleweed. Even if I don't know how I will pay my mortgage, you give me space to remember to smile; that life goes on and is still beautiful even in the darkest moments.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Look ma, one paw!

Although I don't love when the time comes to say goodbye, I have to love knowing that you're here because I opened up my home to you. You didn't have to lose your life before it had a chance to begin. You didn't have to live a shortened life outside, racing from one fearful moment to the next.

I have to love kissing you goodbye because it means that you've graduated from this phase of your life and with any luck, you're going to have a comfortable, wonderful rest-of-your-life next.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mad crush on Mel…

Part of loving you means facing my own fears-fear that I will never stop being sad after you leave, but it also means finding faith-faith that I will find others who need me just as you did. Together we will walk the path to those all too familiar moments to be witnessed again and again.

In some ways, you will never leave me. You are forever a kitten and forever my love.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson…and Petey.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Attacking the toe monster.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stanley plays the harmonica..I mean toy.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. At eight weeks Joey's eyes are starting to change color from baby blue.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Of all the kittens, Stanley LOVES to play more than the others.

Time is almost up! Please don't forget to VOTE so we can win a $1000 donation for our kittens (and so I can keep fostering!)!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joey is as sweet as his photo suggests. He's got the most tender heart of the litter and he so reminds me of Fred who we lost on May 9th.

The Squee Diaries. Ch 8. Paint the Town Brown

The miserable heat wave has vanished, replaced with blessedly cool and drier air. The windows are open for the first time in weeks. It feels more like autumn than the middle of July. I’m grateful for the respite, even if it will just last until morning.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The gang at 7 weeks: Confetti Joe, Yukon Stan, Lil' Gracey, Precious Pete & Jellybean Mel (front).

Minnie’s kittens continue to delight me. Even without their mother’s careful tutelage, they surprise me by being willing to accept me as their surrogate—at least in as many ways as are appropriate. For a little over two weeks the kittens have been mine alone. Minnie has completely turned over her duties to me, without a look back or regret. She moved on before any of us were ready. Her sudden apparent rejection of all her kittens, first brought on by the pain of her illness, then perhaps due to her hormones, urging her to procreate again, was rather shocking. It was as if a switch was flipped and with it her motherhood came to a premature end. The kittens and I were lost for those first few days. Neither of us wanted to give up on her so each day I offered her one kitten. I held the kitten out to her with the door opened to her room. At first she would act out violently, hissing and growling, scaring the poor kitten badly. I’d soothe its fears and put it back with the others. Minnie would go back to her place and lay down, grooming away her anxiety over being presented with an unwelcome guest.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Minnie between vet visits.

I tried each day for a week to get Minnie to accept her kittens again. Minnie didn’t hiss as much, but reacted by retreating further into her room. The kitten would cry to her and she would reply with a tiny almost-chirp. Maybe she was telling the kitten that it’s time to grow up and be on their own and to trust that mama knows best.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey.

What I didn’t expect was how the kittens immediately rallied, focusing their interest on me. When I’d previously entered the room, they would look up, maybe run past me, but now, they run over to me, try to climb up my leg or cry at my feet, hoping to be lifted into my arms for a cuddle. For seven and half week old kittens, they are all very friendly and affectionate. I realize that this will be better for them in the long run. Bonding with a human will serve them well one day when their families come to find them.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Eating raw.

Weaning kittens is always a challenge. They make a horrendous mess by running over their plate and tracking food all over the floor. Their litter pan habits still have a few kinks to be worked out so there’s “that” to be cleaned up as well. The literal dark side of weaning is that the kittens are also getting their digestion working, or not. The result for those tender tummies were piles of mushy brown splats all over the bathroom. At first I blamed it on parasites so I checked a stool sample out and the test came back negative. I still de-wormed the kittens with Strongid, which doesn’t get all the parasites, but it’s gentle enough.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh Stan! Swoon!

That didn’t work so I began adding a probiotic based in dehydrated goat’s milk to their food. The kittens liked it a lot, but it didn’t help, at least for the few days I fed it.

It got to the point where I didn’t want to enter the foster room. The poo-piles were always somewhere tough to get at, like behind the toilet and the smell could be bottled and used as a chemical weapon. I was very worried when I saw blood, some of it mucousy, in their stool. The kittens had very wet bottoms and many cried while in the pan. It’s one thing to work with one sick cat, but five sick kittens is a test of how to stay calm when in your mind you imagine that the kittens have the beginnings of something terrible and not just simple loose stools.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. After a day of raw (inset), canned food moosh-poop.

I kept the kittens clean and I scrubbed the floors a few times a day. I decided to take the kittens off whatever I was feeding and put them on a plain, raw chicken diet that also had proper vitamins and minerals added to it. They attacked it with such vigor that I was taken aback. Within 24 hours their stool showed signs of improvement AND they stopped using the floor for their toilet.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Poor Joey. Straining and crying in the litter pan.

On the second day, I saw less blood, but in a somewhat formed stool. The kittens behinds looked cleaner and the litter pan wasn’t as loaded. I went back to a new de-wormer and started them on that to see if it would help. I knew I might have to use something more powerful if I couldn’t get the blood to stop, but for now the kittens were racing around, gaining weight and having fun. No need to flip out.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. My little rock stars.

What was interesting to me was that I ran out of raw food and had to feed the kittens one meal of canned late at night. The next morning I found stool puddles all over the bathroom again. I wondered about the food being the culprit or was it just that the raw was easier on their tummies?

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joey with mousey.

While I was trying to sort out what to feed the kittens, Minnie’s health took an odd turn. She went into heat and stopped eating. I haven’t seen a cat in heat since I was 9 and we were told to wait until our kitten was almost a year old before we should spay her. She went into heat and my parents thought it was amusing that she got so very friendly with my dad-especially. What it told me was that now with Minnie on her own, I couldn’t even spay her so she’d have to remain in her room without any cat-companionship for a while longer. Spaying a cat in heat is difficult because the uterus is engorged with blood and can tear easily. Since Minnie had just barely recovered from a terrible infection, I didn't want to put her into any higher risk for her spay.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. How many cats are in this photo? Hint: there is MORE than one.

I took Minnie to see Dr. Chris, who thankfully gives us an amazingly generous discount, and he told me that we could end Minnie’s estrous by stimulating her ovaries. I gave Dr. Chris a funny look then said; “You’re not even going to buy her dinner first?”

Then I wondered how this was going to be done. Next I thought…I don’t want to know.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Waiting for Dr. Chris.

Dr. Chris grabbed a thermometer and a cover for the tip then gestured for me to hold Minnie in place. He inserted the thermometer into Minnie’s vagina and twisted it around. Minnie started to vocalize loudly, her eyes wide. I thought she was going to bite me, but then quickly realized she was too busy getting her funk on with Dr. Chris to bother with me.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stan and Mel.

In all the years I’ve done rescue, this is one thing I’ve never had to do. Dr. Chris told me that we had to irritate her, just as a male cat’s barbed penis would and it would end the cycle and we could spay her safely sooner.

Of course, I blurted out that if humans had barbed penises there would be three humans on Earth. He didn’t make a comment and I simply blushed.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mine! Mine! Mine!

We opted to give Minnie her Rabies and FRVCP (distemper combo) vaccinations. I thought she’d be fine, but she had a nasty reaction to the shots. Her right front leg went lame and she didn’t get up for the next 24 hours. Worried, I called two Vets and they said to give her another day. By the second day she was up on her paws, but not eating well. I sat down next to her to give her some reassuring pets when I noticed a big red lesion under her left front leg-nowhere near where her vaccine was given.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mellie.

Either she was having a nasty allergic reaction or somehow Minnie had gotten the dreaded “RW” (ringworm). Just as I thought Minnie was finally out of the woods, she was back in it again. I raced her over to Dr. Chris and he took a look. He thought it was an Eosinophilic plaque-possibly brought on by the vaccine OR it was “RW.”

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. A foreign lesion.

…but he was leaning toward the plaque to which I almost told him I would make out with him I was so happy. Ringworm means lots of fear it will spread to ALL of us..not just the cats but to me and Sam, too. No ringworm means Minnie can be with other cats much sooner and hopefully with some treatment she will feel much better, too. Fortunately for me, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t embarrass myself further. We did a culture of the fur near the lesion and we'll have to wait about 10 days for results.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joe & Gracey.

In the meantime I will keep fumbling along, trying to right this tipping ship and hoping I can prepare myself for the kittens to be ready to go up for adoption soon. I knew I would get attached and now I have to figure out how to still love those babies to pieces without shattering my own heart.

NOTE: there were SO MANY PHOTOS I didn't have room in this post, so the next one will photos-only and please don't forget to VOTE so we can win a $1000 donation for our kittens!

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The Squee Diaries. Chapter 7. Let the Good Times Roll.

The day before Minnie fell ill and required emergency Vet care, followed by two days on an IV at the Vet, I put this post together, chock full of photos of the kittens as they discovered their first tiny cat tree. The kittens are bigger, more sophisticated 6-week olds now, but here's a look back at them at 5 weeks having fun and exploring their ever-growing world.

Enjoy.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Investigating their very first toy from Auntie Ingrid at The Conscious Cat.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Say “mousey!”.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Petey's first claw trim.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stanley.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. My first cardboard box.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joey sleeping in the box (seen on SqueeTV)

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey and the boys.

Stanley Hears a Who R Olson.jpg
©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stanley hears a Who.

Cute Mellie R Olson.jpg
©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Pkee-a-Boo!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. All hail Gracey!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. He's lovin' it!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mellie makes the summit.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. !!!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Oops! No kitten was harmed during or after this photo was taken.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The first one to get in and out of the tub-Gracey shows off.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Huh?

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Hey!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Assessing the climb.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. I think I can!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Hi Stanley!

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Stanley Reaches the Sumit R Olson.jpg
©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stanley makes it to the top of the mountain!

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey is camera shy.

The Squee Diaries. Chapter 5. The Last Days of the Blue Bathtub

The blue bathtub is empty. Once home to our little foster nuggets, it's now devoid of life, still lined with a soft thick blanket, a few motionless toys, and a tiny litter pan with kitten-safe non-clumping litter inside it.

As all kittens do and should do, they have grown quickly, and in their urgent desire to explore a slowly expanding world, the tub could no longer contain their curiosity.

But before that happened, let's take a look back on the last days of the Blue Bathtub.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Minnie's milk bar is still open for lunch.

As the kittens reached 4 weeks of age, the “drunk walk” they did began to become more confident strides. I was glad to see those days pass. Although endearing to see, it also reminded me of Fred's last days of not being able to walk at all. Seeing the kittens sure-steps gave me some relief, too. It meant their muscles and bones were growing stronger and more capable. With each day, another small miracle. Their weight continued to increase as their awareness of the world expanded.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Passed out pile of cuteness.

I placed a few simple toys in the tub with them, but they didn't understand what they were for. They were happy to use each other as a toy or alternatively a pillow when play time was over. They were still focused on mama-Minnie for everything and had no interest in any tempting foods I set out for them.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Stan washes his face while brother, Joe sleeps.

With Minnie being so painfully thin, my hope is to get the kittens weaned as soon as possible, so she can work on getting her health back. She's a devoted, focused mother who is gentle and friendly, but fierce if threatened. My day-to-day relationship with her is very good and affectionate, but one night I learned Minnie's true colors when out of curiosity, I played a cat meowing sound effect on my iPhone that mimicked Minnie's own cry to her kittens. Minnie heard it an immediately went on alert. She jumped towards the sound, landing on the counter near the bathroom sink. She'd never jumped that high before and quickly began to growl, flicking her tail, anxiously looking for a threat. I played another sound, that of a kitten crying and she really flipped out-racing around the room, frantically searching for the intruder. Her behavior was quite startling.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Lil Gracey dreams her little kitten dreams.

I told her it was okay and felt like a complete idiot for testing her like that. Her tail was puffed out and her pupils dilated. She was on high alert and ready to fight, but just as quickly as she alerted, she began to calm down. I was afraid to touch her, but soon realized it was probably safe to do so. Within a few minutes, Minnie was back to watching over her “flock.”

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Shhh..nap in progress.

Minnie's appetite has also been difficult to predict. One day she's ravenous and will eat what I give her, but most often she's picky and reluctant to take a bite. I've used all my tricks, warming the food, sprinkling dehydrated chicken on it, mixing in some raw chicken liver, but it doesn't often help. I'll even put some on my finger and rub it along her teeth to get her to lick some of the food and get a taste for it.

If she eats at all, she can take more than 20 minutes for her to get the idea that it's food and start to eat, some times even longer. I find myself running up and down the stairs to get the food back into the microwave to re-warm it up, thinking the warm food will help her smell it. I can't seem to find the perfect food or combination of food that she will eat each time. I've been adding goat milk to the food or bringing her a small bowl of it and she seems to like that a lot and I do know it's helped keep her hydrated and given her some extra Vitamin D.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Hey! Do not disturb!

The kittens seem to be doing very well. Their weights are all in line if not ahead of what I would expect them to weigh at their age. Petey was the smallest so I worried about him. Stanely and Mellie are the big boys, each hitting a full pound in weight before the others. I was grateful that none of them were so off the mark that I had to intervene with syringe feeding.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Mel (left) and Petey (right)

The kittens are starting to get their teeth and their eyes are blue, instead of dark orbs. They're starting to sort out what a litter pan is-besides a fun place to play. They seem to be okay with me in the room, but I always wonder if I'm handling them enough or too little. I want to keep them safe and calm until they're another week older. Then I need to get more people to visit so they don't get spooked at newcomers.

I should try not to worry so much about being perfect with them and just enjoy these precious weeks. I can't believe how they've grown and how it seems like overnight they've become little cats racing to see who the first will be to explore the world outside the tub.

And not surprisingly, Gracey seems to be leading the way.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey, leader of the pack, begins her attempt to bust out of the blue bathtub.

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Stay tuned for Chapter 6.—coming soon.

Another Orange Family Needs a Helping Hand

I had just barely gotten Minnie and her five kittens settled in the now famous blue-bathtub you may have seen featured on my rescue, Kitten Associate's, 24/7 web cam called Squee-TV when I got an email from a friend of mine who does rescue in the southern USA. She sent me a photo of an orange mama-cat, not unlike my own Minnie, whose time was almost up-the delicate way to say she was going to be euthanized if we didn't get her out.

She also had kittens, older than my little guys, but no less deserving of being freed from their cage and given a chance to live a full life. The kittens had been separated from her because they were old enough to be weaned, but what we didn't know is that someone was putting them back with mama each night, which at first glance might seem touching, when in fact it was dangerous for the mama.

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I was asked if I could help get the mama-cat out of the shelter. I couldn't take her on, but I could help her if we could find a good rescue to take part. I'd offer up what I could, including asking our dear-Bobby to help by picking up the family if, indeed, we had time to make this happen at all. When time is up…time is up.

I hate calling animal control. I always feel like I'm going to throw up because I don't know if they are going to tell me the cat is "not available” (dead) or if for some bizarre reason I can't have the cats. I promised I'd call and ask for time, maybe a few days, to put things together. If I couldn't get the rescue sorted out, then I would let them know. They agreed to give me until the next morning. Oh boy…I had to act fast.

Thankfully, a rescue in the northeast offered to take the cats. They have been fully checked out and we know we can get the cats to them. The problem is money-we need to have the cats fully vetted to sweeten the pot for the rescue to take on the family. That's not a bad thing and some times we do this to help each other out.

What I couldn't have bargained on was the frantic call I got early the next morning. The mama cat was screaming in pain and would not allow anyone to touch her. The staff was going to put her down right then and there. Something was terribly wrong. They remembered I'd asked to put a rescue hold on this cat and one of the staff urged them to NOT put her down and to call me first. When I answered the phone and heard her anxious tone, I knew it was serious.

Without thinking I said “Hell, yes! Get her out of there! I'll have Bobby come over right away, hang on.” Had I just signed myself up for a multi-thousand dollar Vet bill? What was wrong with the mama?

In no time at all Bobby picked up the mama and her six kittens. Mama was taken to the Vet. She had a very bad case of mastitis, an infection of the mammary glands. In her case it caused an ulceration of one of the glands, which is extremely painful. This often happens when kittens are too old to be nursing from their mama and their teeth puncture her skin and push nasty bacteria into the glands or the kittens claws can cause scratches or bacteria can go into the gland during rough nursing. It can be deadly and must be treated right away. Those nights of allowing the kittens on mama probably caused the issue when separating them might have kept her healthy.

Thankfully, we weren't too late. Mama is in a foster home with her kittens, though separated from them so she can heal. She's doing well and the kittens are free to explore the world beyond the size of a cage. They have a hopeful future, we just need to lend them a helping hand so they can be on their way.

This fundraiser doesn't need much to be filled up. I hope we can make that happen. If we all add a little bit to the pot, it will fill up in a jiffy! Just click the “GIVE NOW” button and you're all set.

Cats like Minnie and now, Ginger need our support. One day they will be spayed and chubby and in their forever homes. We're all part of the team that gets them there so they can find their happy ending.

Thank you for being part of our team and helping to save lives!

JULY 5, 2013 UPDATE: We made our fundraising goal AND in even BETTER NEWS, Ginger mama, her six kittens and SEVEN MORE ORPHAN KITTENS are on their way to the northeast to find safe haven in a rescue there! Our Bobby and Izzy and Mark are part of the team driving them over 1000 miles in the next few days so if you see a car full of kitties, give them a wave and let them know how AWESOME THEY ARE..and to Joan Flores who started this mission and was able to put a group together of strangers, all dedicated to saving lives. With the help of all of your donations and sharing this message, we DID IT!

The Squee Diaries. Chapter 4 The Pitter Patter

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Yukon Stan is sitting up on his own! His cuteness is killing me!

Teenie tiny kittens are wondrous little blobs of fluff that look more like hamsters than cats in the making. I can't do much with Minnie's kittens at just over two weeks of age because frankly they're not ready to be handled for very long and they can barely walk, let alone play. Am I complaining about this? No, but I would admit to looking forward to when I can interact with them for longer than it takes to weigh them and say a quick “hello.”

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Hello, Joe!

The other day, I walked into the blue bathroom-home to Minnie and her kittens. I greeted Minnie and asked her how she was doing, then looked into the bathtub to make sure all the kittens were, well, alive. One of the kittens was looking up at me! I got a tingle down my spine. Here was the first sign of the blobs becoming little kittens! Not only was he looking at me, but he was sitting up, his front legs starting to hold his weight.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Stan head out on a mission to walk across the cat bed.

I've noticed some other subtle changes. Stanley discovered his tongue and will attempt to groom himself a little bit. Mostly, I think he's just exploring the sensation of tongue on fur and hoping to make sense of of this new urge he's experiencing.

The kittens are a bit more active. They scrambled to get out of their hooded cat bed so I removed it. That way none of them will be separated from the others. I want each kitten to have good weight gain and access to their mama and it's been working well so far.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Ever-adorable Lil' Gracey.

I was startled, too, by the discovery of a bright ORANGE “blow-out” of poo that got onto Confetti Joe, but came from Yukon Stan. I've never seen this before and after a frantic call to my friend, Katherine, we decided it was okay because their digestion is just forming and of course it could be effected by all sorts of things. Katherine was fairly sure she'd seen some bright orange poo, too, so I gave the kittens a quick bath and hoped to not see that again.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Eyes open, but ears not quite ready yet. Mel won't let that stop him!

Although I did see a small patch on Gracey's behind a day later, other than that, the kittens are still clean and seem to be in good shape. I must add that Minnie continues to be a marvelous mother. The extra good news is that in the two weeks she's been with us she's gained 12 OUNCES! Considering she's nursing AND the terrible shape she was in, this is a huge weight gain. She's still far too thin and though her spine has a very thin layer of padding on it now, she's got a long way to go. She's eating much more food and with more gusto. It makes me happy to watch her eat because every bite for her is going to help keep her lovely kittens going for another day, too.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Gracey vs Stanley.

 

If you're keeping track, the kittens, at 4 weeks should weigh about 1 pound. They're 2 1/2 weeks old now and they're at about 10-12 ounces, so a little ahead of schedule. I've tracked their weight daily-which is VERY IMPORTANT to do. It's the easiest way to see if the kittens are NOT doing well or which need more "mama-time" or which ones might be failing. Compared to the first few days when the kittens were gaining a full ounce every day, now the kittens gain 1/2 oz every day, which is a nice, steady pace.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Still rail-thin, Mama grabs a quick bite between feeding the kittens.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Stan & Joe check out the weird giant hanging over the edge of the bathtub with the crazy hair.

I've had some glimpses of the kitten's personalities, but I don't want to make any assumptions about which ones might be troublemakers or little Princesses just yet. They're also starting to awkwardly wrestle with each other. They still have a long way to go to gain the strength they need to walk confidently. They're very wobbly and fall over constantly. Normally this would be something I'd take delight in, but I continue to have flashbacks about Fred. I see him in my mind's eye, struggling to walk. His back legs went first, then his front. I've never seen anything so horrifying in my life and I'll never forget it. Part of me wants to not see the kittens for a few weeks until they get on their feet. I don't want to remember Fred like that-weak and helpless.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Gracey and Stan and some very sweet stripes.

 

I look at little Joe. The markings on his face remind me of Fred, too, but it's not a bad thing. I feel like I got to have a "do-over" and that I have another chance to raise kittens that will hopefully one day be strong and vibrant and be adopted into loving homes. I told myself not to think about FIP happening again with this family, or something else I haven't seen yet. Cats can get so many diseases, it's a wonder any survive.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Oh Stanley…swoon.

As they always do, the kittens remind me to take joy in witnessing this miraculous time in their lives. I am so determined to do everything perfectly for them, raise them to be confident and loving, not fearful or fractious. I want them to know great health and never know dry food. Somehow that's the only way I can forgive myself for how I failed Fred and the kittens that went to HEART.

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. I'm not sure I should caption this photo.

I just looked at Squee-TV , our web cam that's perched on the edge of the bathtub peering down onto the kittens. They're piled onto each other to stay warm, their bellies are full and they're peacefully sleeping. Minnie is nearby, always keeping alert to the slightest sound that will send her to the side of her newborns. She takes a few minutes out for herself and is back at their side every so often to lick them, nourish them and love them with a sincerity that is most profound.

[BREAKING NEWS: Dropcam is going to FEATURE Squee-TV on their front page! If you have a mobile device you can download their app and watch our cam when you're away from your computer! Just use the link to access our Featured-Feed]

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. I'm so big now!

 

Sweet dreams, my little darlings. I look forward to tomorrow because you'll be part of it.

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Good night, Mellie.

 

Don't forget to VOTE! If you like what we're doing here at Covered in Cat Hair, simply use this LINK every day until June 28th to cast your vote for BEST CAT BLOG, BEST CAUSE BLOG, BEST BLOG WRITING (here's a LINK to a good article or you can choose your favorite) and make sure you add KITTEN ASSOCIATES as your SHELTER NOMINEE! THANK YOU!!!

You DO NOT HAVE TO COMPLETELY FILL OUT THE NOMINATION FORM TO VOTE! The $1000 prize donation could go a long way to helping us help more kittens like Petey, Gracey, Joey, Stanley and Mellie and mom-Minnie!

 

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©2013 Robin A. F. Olson. Kitten pile!

The Squee Diaries. Chapter 3 The Unbearable Cuteness of Kittens

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Petey meets the chick.

The kittens are almost two weeks old and have been with me for a week and what bliss this week has been. I'd forgotten what it's like to be near such unbearably cute creatures. Even though I can't hold them for long periods of time and they're still a few weeks away from being ready to start playing, just watching them sleep or take nourishment from their mom, Minnie, heals my soul. Whatever lousy things are going on outside of the foster room, can wait as I marvel in the wonder of tiny toes and eyes opening upon the world for the first time.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Box of Joe!

I managed to capture a few photos of the kittens. Keep in mind I don't have a photo studio and I literally have 1 to 2 minutes, tops, to get a photo. After that point the kittens get fussy and Minnie, alarmed, will start chirping at them. Yesterday she got fed up that I took too long, came over and grabbed the kitten by the scruff and took him back to the safety of his siblings! I had to laugh and also be humbled by this protective mama.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey.

Speaking of mama, Minnie is doing much better. Her appetite is greatly improved and today when I weighed her she had gained 2 ounces. It's not a lot of weight, but it's the start of a trend upwards to health for both her and to insure health for her kittens. She even seems a bit less scruffy. Her coat is slightly cleaner and softer. She seems much more at ease. She can focus on caring for her kittens which she does with amazing dedication. This is one very impressive mama-especially for one that is so very young.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Joey getting sleepy.

All the kittens eyes are open and their ears are starting to grow larger. This morning for the first time when I entered the room, they all looked up at me and in that first moment of connection my heart melted even more. I love these babies and am so glad I could open up my home to them while another family, with an orange mama who could be Minnie's sister, was about to be euthanized in a shelter in Georgia.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson.

After MANY emails and phone calls yesterday morning, the mama, who was literally about to be put down, was spared because I'd called and asked them to hold the family. Our intrepid Bobby picked them up and whisked them off to the Vet where Mama, who was suffering from mastitis, could get the care she needed and the kittens could get their first vaccinations and check up. I couldn't live with myself if I knew that I could enjoy Minnie and her family while another, just as deserving family, died. Another tiny battle one. Seven more lives saved.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Watch out! Joey likes to drive fast!

Although I can't invite you to my home to meet our amazing family, you CAN watch them on our brand new web cam I call Squee-TV. I have it running 24/7 so you don't have to miss a wiggle, purr or meow. I've been told it's very addicting so be forewarned!.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The chick tells Petey a secret.

Don't forget to VOTE! If you like what we're doing here at Covered in Cat Hair, simply use this LINK every day until June 28th to cast your vote for BEST CAT BLOG, BEST CAUSE BLOG, BEST BLOG WRITING (here's a LINK to a good article or you can choose your favorite) and make sure you add KITTEN ASSOCIATES as your SHELTER NOMINEE! THANK YOU!!!

You DO NOT HAVE TO COMPLETELY FILL OUT THE NOMINATION FORM TO VOTE! The $1000 prize donation could go a long way to helping us help more kittens like Petey, Gracey, Joey, Stanley and Mellie and mom-Minnie!

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The Squee Diaries. Chapter 2.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Named, at last, here is our mama, Minnie.

The kittens are 10 days old today. Hurrah! Every day they live is another milestone because at this tender age kittens can fall ill and quickly die. It's common that 30-40% of kittens in a litter will pass away depending on the stresses in the environment and the condition and ability of the mother to provide for her offspring. So far, so good for this family.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Who has the cutest little rear end in the world?

There's an internal war I'm struggling with between feeling great anxiety about the mother's overall condition, which is very poor, and bliss in witnessing her tender devotion to her kittens. I nicknamed the mama, Skinny Minnie, because she's rail-thin. She weighs a little over 7 lbs, but she should weigh about 10 lbs, at least. I can feel her vertebrae when I pet her. It's sharp, without any cushion of flesh. When she sits, her hips stick out, almost at an impossible angle. It hurts me to see her like this when I know she's struggling to keep her kittens alive-at any cost to herself.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Chaos at the lunch line.

What is more worrisome is that starved or not, Minnie isn't eating well. The first day she gobbled her food, then it seemed that nothing would interest her. Was it the fact she was getting good food, more than her digestion could handle? It was certainly a possibility. Add to that she was in a new environment-was she safe? Were her kittens safe? Stress might keep her from eating and so could the fact that we did treat her with Revoution®, which can add to tummy troubles, too.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Minnie is so painfully thin. Come on mama-EAT!

 

I didn't know what was ailing Minnie so I pulled out every tempting treat I could think of and used every trick in the book to get her to eat. She'd lick a little bit of food here and there off my finger or take a few bites of food. I syringe fed her some probiotics, hoping they would calm her stomach. I could hear it gurgling. I checked with a Vet and got the okay to give her sub q (under the skin) fluids. We gave her what is considered a small amount of fluids, just 50 mL. We gave it to her a second time the next day, too.

 

Minnie also relived herself of two gigantic bowel movements. Normally this isn't something to consider, but since she came off the streets, it was important to both get her stool tested for parasites (which surprisingly came up clean this time-we'll recheck in a month) and to make sure she COULD pass stool properly (and use the litter pan!).

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Confetti Joe is named after my daddy, Joe, who passed away 14 years ago this month.

I even offered Minnie what I loathe to feed any cat-dry food. I opted for the highest quality grain-free kibble I could find. Over the following days she nibbled at it a bit, but only seemed to like eating one brand of canned cat food and one flavor of it. Sadly it's a tough food to find locally so I've put in a rush order for more.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Yukon Stan is named after Stanley Pertwee Kokopelli, who died 10 years ago this month.

I've started to weigh Minnie when I weigh the kittens. Tracking her weight is just as vital as that of her offspring. If something should happen to Minnie, it would put the kittens at great risk of dying. They're still completely dependent on her and I'm not the best bottle feeder in the world.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Jellybean Mel is named after my sister's dog, Mel who passed away the day before the kittens were born.

I'm also torn between taking Minnie to the Vet where we might be able to run some tests on her, but it would also STRESS her and the kittens AND put the kittens into an environment where they could possibly get sick being exposed to the other animals in the practice. My gut says to hang tight. As long as Minnie's eating something and not dehydrated, maybe she'll push through this and I can bring her in for a checkup in a few weeks once the kittens are stable.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Precious Pete is named after Super-Deb's cat, Pete Puma who passed away a few years ago.

I keep asking myself, what would the Vet do that I can't? Yes, they can run a blood test, but even if they find infection they can't give her antibiotics because she's nursing. Minnie is alert, bright-eyed, seems comfortable. She grooms herself and is the BEST mama. Though I'd love to see her devour her food and eat a lot of it, she's eating something.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson (main) ©The Tiniest Tiger (inset). Lil' Gracey is named after Joanne McGonagle (her middle name is Lil) and her beloved cat, Gracey, who just died three weeks ago. You may know Gracey for being the spokescat for The Tiniest Tiger.

 

I have to remind myself to hang tight. Keep everyone warm, dry, comfy, fed. That's all that has to be done. Now if Minnie would comply and EAT, we'd be all set.

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Pete and his plush pal.

As with every rescue we do, we need to raise some funds to provide for their care while in our foster program. You don't have to donate a lot, even a few dollars can add up to make a difference. Each kitten will need their vaccinations, their spay or neuter surgery, toys, kitten formula and litter. Minnie may need some blood work done if she doesn't get her appetite back.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. I wuv my brudder. Joe and Pete enjoy a snuggle.

 

To help Minnie and her family, simply click the "GIVE NOW" button and you'll be directed to our You Caring page. If you'd prefer to send a check, you can make it out to: Kitten Associates and mail it to: Kitten Associates, P.O. Box 354, Newtown, CT 06470-0354

 

 

Thank you for helping this precious family and for sharing this post to your cat-loving friends!

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey fills her belly while brother, Stanley snoozes away the day.

The Squee Diaries Chapter 1. We are born.

Things have been pretty awful around here the past few months. Between the lingering pall of grief after the shooting at our elementary school, the long, almost never-ending winter coupled with the harrowing road we traveled with kitten-Fred, only to end in tragedy—the deaths of our family pets, Mel and Oliver, just adds up to an overly long season of “the blues.”

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. We try to move on, but the sadness lingers.

Usually I’d try to snap myself out of it, but perhaps now that I’m middle-aged, I’m to a point where I just accept it and try to find a way to continue moving forward. I’ve been reluctant to foster any new cats, even though we’re in the throes of “kitten season.” It’s just been too much heartbreak and frankly, I haven’t had a break from fostering for almost four years. I promised Maria, our super foster mom, a break and I hoped that I’d be able to take one myself. Just having Bongo, George, Bunny, Barney and Mabel here is enough, added to my own eight cats.

But, I’m haunted by a longing—a deep-seated need to be around kittens; even though I’m not sure my heart can take any more pain. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t even been around a kitten for almost a year that I feel this pull inside my heart. I’m not sure what drives my desire. I only know it’s there and with every email plea for help or every call about a cat in need, I ask myself; “Is this the one I should be helping?” Then I come up with a reason to say no.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My dear Fred. I miss you so much.

I need to work and make a living. I need to focus on getting some Kitten Associates housekeeping done. I’d like to feel like I’m caught up or could catch up on what I need to do, but I’m constantly distracted by seeing photos of foster kittens on Facebook!

People often ask me how I can foster kittens when it’s so tough to let them go when it’s time for them to be adopted. I ask in return, how can you NOT foster kittens? How can you say no to one of the sweetest, most blissful experiences you can have in this world? Once you start fostering, it’s very tough to stop.

Watching kittens take their first wobbly steps or pounce awkwardly onto a toy would soften the toughest of hearts. Kittens allow me to be a mother, something I never had the chance to be to a human, but something I have a biological need to do.

I wrestle with the heartache I feel over losing Fred and with adoptions way down, I’m also a bit scared to take on any more foster cats, too.

But yesterday, I experienced a knowing, a gut-tugging feeling that directed me to open my heart and take another chance. When my friend Katherine called me about a mama-cat who just had a litter of kittens on a sidewalk in a tough part of Bridgeport, CT, I knew right away that this was what I needed to do. These were the cats I’d been waiting for for so long.

I asked her if she could tell me what they looked like and she replied; “The mama is orange and maybe white, and so sugary sweet. I think the kittens are all..well..don’t get upset but they are orange and white, just like Fred.”

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©2013 Katherine Reid. My first look at our new family. Mama with 5 kittens born on June 1, 2013.

Tears welled up in my eyes and somehow I choked out the words; “Yes, I’ll take them.” This was my new family and the start of six new stories. I know I can’t replace Fred, but this feels like Fred gets a second chance somehow and I need to do this—for Fred and for my heart.

I’m leaving to pick up this family in a few minutes. Later today you can visit our brand NEW webcam, which I’m calling SqueeTV. Just visit this link to see live, streaming video of our newest rescues and stay tuned as we name each one and begin the process of helping them grow, thrive and become wonderful adoptable kittens.

The Other Side

The past month has been one of the worst of my life. Although I’ve witnessed the slow decline and eventual passing of my own senior cats, and all the fear and sadness that brings, I’ve never watched it happen to a mere kitten. It is so much worse because there’s the added tragedy of the full, long life that never got to be lived. The family I imagined coming to adopt him, never came to the door. The joy he’d have being loved and cherished for a lifetime, was taken away by a fatal disease.

Yesterday afternoon, Fred made his journey over the Rainbow Bridge.

The past month, I’ve had to face Fred’s decline, despite so many efforts to revive him, find an answer, at least keep him stable for a while longer. I’ve had to watch him as he lost use of his back legs. He could still get around after we made changes to his living space to make it easier on him to still have some freedom.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Barney often tried to get Fred to play, which I discouraged. Eventually, Barney realized his brother couldn't play with him any longer.

He became incontinent. Not surprisingly because he couldn’t get to the litter pan. We just made more adjustments and bought a lot of “wee-wee” pads. The goal was to keep him comfortable, hoping we’d get enough time for the test results to come back or to start another treatment.

I set up the web cam so I could watch him when I wasn’t in the room, but felt sick to my stomach every time I looked in on him. Seeing him struggling broke my heart. There was a time I saw him slip and fall off the pet stairs onto the floor. I raced up to the room to help him back up. He seemed so confused about how such things could happen to a once agile creature. I kissed him and told him to hang on that I would find a way to make it better.

I realized I was running out of things to hope for last week. I realized how ridiculous it was to find myself hoping Fred had lymphoma, instead of FIP. Both were fatal, but at least with lymphoma Fred could live longer, maybe over a year. It was crazy to hope that, at least, Fred wouldn’t lose use of his front legs, too, but eventually he did. He could sit up, but other than that, he didn’t move around. Sam and I took turns changing his position or location in the room. I’d place him on a bed in the sunshine and he’d groom himself, perked up by the joy of being in his favorite place.

Fred hadn’t eaten anything on his own over the past week, not even his favorite chicken treat. Sam and I fed him three times a day via a syringe. He struggled at first, but as the days passed, he just took his food without a fuss. Sam would hold him against his chest, shielded by a pad because Fred would often urinate when we held him up to feed him. We’d cheer him on when he peed because that meant his body was still functioning normally. A few times we even got him to poop, which caused us to be even happier. He still had some strength. It wasn’t time. We still had a chance.

I would focus on coming up with the tastiest, most nutritious, combinations I could put into the blender to make Fred enjoy his food. He would take a taste, then smack his mouth with his tongue. He’d look up at Sam with this silly, sweet expression and Sam would look down so lovingly at this little cat. I’d syringe a tiny bit more food into him and he’d swallow some and dribble some onto his fur. Between syringes of food, I’d carefully wipe Fred’s face with a paper towel I’d wetted with very warm water. I wanted to recreate the feeling of his mama washing his face. He seemed to like it and often purred.

When we finished feeding, there were the many medications, eye drops, bad things. I washed Fred again and we’d put him on a soft bed. We’d take turns brushing him, again, anything to help him feel clean and comfortable. Some times Barney would come over and lick Fred’s face, ears, or paws. Fred almost smiled at Barney’s attempts to connect with his brother.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred (front) and Barney (by the pillows).

I found I couldn’t focus on work or eat much. My only respite was sleep and I couldn’t get to sleep unless I was exhausted. I’d get a few hours, only to wake up as the first glow of sun peeked over the horizon. My gut would go back to its familiar ache. Should I look at the web cam? Is Fred still alive? Did he pass away over night?

Eventually I’d work up the courage to look and I’d see him in his bed, so very still. I’d race into the room to find him still with us. I hate to say that some times I wished maybe he’d have left us over night and it would just be over and done. I kept reminding myself that the other side of this means how I live my life without Fred, knowing he is gone. The sheer Hell of watching him fade away would be over, but a new Hell-one of grief and remorse would take its place.

Time was quickly running out for Fred. Tests kept coming in negative for lymphoma so for certain it was FIP. Fred’s condition got much worse on Tuesday night. We had to hold his head up to get him fed. He was much weaker. I’ve never seen a cat, while still alive, who was so very limp-everywhere. Fred couldn’t lift his head or lick his paw. He could flick his tail ever so slightly-and that’s how I knew it was time to change his wee wee pad, but that was it. After we fed Fred, got him cleaned up and on a fresh blanket, we left the room. I broke down in tears and said to Sam that it was time. He agreed. We were taking turns changing Fred’s position every hour and making sure he wasn’t urinating on himself. I was to call Dr Larry in the morning to make the appointment for that day. We couldn’t wait any more. Now my last hope was that we could end Fred’s life in a peaceful way and without pain or fear.

Sam and I discussed what we would do, how it would be done. I made a promise to Fred-no more Vet runs and that the Vet would come to us. Sick to my stomach, I made the call. Dr. Larry was out sick that day. My only option was to bring Fred to them and have Dr. Mary put Fred down. Sam and I discussed it and felt we could keep Fred going on more day, so we made the appointment for yesterday afternoon.

When you know your cat is going to die and you know when, you can’t focus on anything else going on in your life. Any other issues fall to the wayside. The irony is that through this past month, Sam and I have been working on refinancing our mortgage so we can stay in our home. I’ve been so sidetracked I ignored all the calls and paperwork. I even put off the Closing last week so we could watch over Fred. We managed to get everything taken care of and in the end it saved us a lot of money. We should have been happy since it’s been a constant worry for us for a long time, but we were both like zombies, signing papers, nodding yes or no to any questions our Lawyer had, hoping we’d just get it over with. We got the job done and raced home to be with Fred because we knew we had less than 24 hours to be with him.

The last twelve hours were spent with Fred. He was not left alone, even for a second. Around 10pm on Wednesday, we put or pajamas on and set ourselves up in the foster room with Fred and Barney. Fred was either on a cozy cat bed between us or on Sam's chest. We each were petting him or holding his little paws. They were starting to feel cooler and I wanted him to feel the warmth of my hand. We didn’t say much.

Trying to lighten the mood a little I blurted out, “tell me a story.” and Sam began reciting bits of Dr. Seuss books he read to his daughter 30 years ago. “Look what we found in the park, in the dark! We will take him home, we will call him Clark. He will live at our house; he will grow and grow! Will our mother like this? We don't know.”

I thought Clark would be a good name for the next cat we rescue, then I caught myself. The next cat? Would there be one after this?

We tried to include Barney or play a little bit with him. He was somewhat curious about what was going on, but eventually settled down on a blanket near Fred, too. We formed a circle of loving kindness around Fred. His breathing was slower. He reacted to less and less. I started to hope that Fred would hang on because I didn’t know how the FIP would kill him. Would he suffocate and struggle? Would his heart just give out? I just wanted this one thing since I couldn’t have anything else. I couldn’t have Fred rebound or recover. At least he could die without pain.

Sam slept with Fred that last night. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t see him in such terrible condition for hours on end. I still got up at 4am and again at 7am to check on Fred and to clean him up because he was urinating on himself. Every time Fred peed we still cheered him on. “Good boy! Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Oops! Here’s some more! Get another pad. Okay, good boy, Freddie!”

But this was it, the morning of the end. I did all the chores getting our other cats feed, watered, boxes cleaned out, so Sam could stay with Fred. I was so busted up that seeing him was killing me, too. I had to go back and face him because time was running out. We got the room cleaned up and got ourselves washed and dressed. Fred was very frail now. We both sat on either side of him, petting him, talking to him. Telling him we loved him. He was barely conscious. It was devastating.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Sam holding Fred before we start feeding time. You can see how limp he is in Sam's arms.

It was a gray day. I was hoping for some last rays of sun for Fred, but it rained. Around 12:30pm, the clouds opened up and it started to pour. I saw Dr. Larry’s car come down the driveway and my heart sank. This was it. It was time. I got up to answer the door, but my legs felt weak. Dr. Larry and super-Deb said hello as they entered the house. My mouth opened to reply, but no words came out.

We went upstairs to the room where Sam was waiting with Fred. Dr. Larry was quiet, then sighed and looked at Fred. He and Deb got to work. I had to sign a form saying Fred hadn’t bitten anyone in 15 days and that I was giving my consent to have him euthanized. Dr. Larry talked about how tough cats are and that he could see Fred living a few more days even though he was barely alive. He said that Fred’s body condition looked really good because we’d been constantly feeding and cleaning him, but that, too, it was clear it was time for Fred to be helped to pass away.

I asked if Dr. Larry could take a look at Barney first. I was worried that Barney could get sick, too, because I’d heard that FIP can hit siblings since they have the same DNA. He and Deb examined Barney and felt he was okay, but we would keep a close eye on him going forward. He suggested we thoroughly scrub down the room and get rid of the cat trees and bedding, just to be safe. We couldn’t risk having an unhealthy environment since I still have three adult foster cats in my bathroom who would benefit being in a bigger space. Although I knew it meant more fundraising to replace all the cat furniture, I agreed it made sense.

There wasn’t anything else I could do to put off what was to come next. It was time to let Fred go. Dr. Larry explained that we had to be calm because Fred’s veins were compromised by the steroids and that the needle might blow out a vein and that we had to not get upset. Sam was still sitting on the bed next to Fred so he lifted the cat bed with Fred on it into his lap. I gave Fred a few kisses and moved aside to hold his front paw while Dr. Larry slipped the first needle into his vein. Dr. Larry fussed over the placement, but the vein held. Fred didn’t even react to the sting of the needle. Fred was already so far gone that when he passed, none of us even saw him go.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred's last night. Sam held him for hours.

Dr. Larry listened to his chest and there were no more signs of life. He said, “okay, it’s done.” as I burst into racking sobs. Some how I had enough strength to remember one last thing as I cried. I had cut sections of green and white ribbons, which are the colors that are associated with the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. I tried to tie a bow around Fred’s neck, but my fingers didn’t work. It took five tries but I finally got it done. Fred was our Mascot for Kitties for Kids. He made so many kids happy. Super Deb remarked, now all the children who were killed will know Fred when he arrives in Heaven and I agreed.

I kissed Fred a few more times and told him I was sorry and how much I loved him. Deb carried him out in her arms. He was still on his comfy cat bed. She said she didn’t want us to see her put him in the black plastic bag and I agreed I didn’t want to see that either.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fly free, sweet Fred. We will love you and miss you, always.

I closed the door and came close to fainting. I was crying so hard I couldn’t stand. I willed myself to go back to the foster room, which had so often been a place of joy, to find Sam on the bed, weeping.

I sat on the bed, in the same place I’d spent the better part of the last day, but now we were on the other side of this journey, the side where the questions are answered and where the real pain begins.

A loud rumble of thunder traveled through the house. I said to Sam; “that was Fred. He’s on his way to be with the children and they’re celebrating his arrival.” He looked at me through tear-filled eyes and nodded “yes.”

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