Doing Your Best
It's 4:30 a.m. and I just lost a rescue kitten I have been working to keep alive for weeks. I named him Tiny since, well, he was...
When I first saw Tiny, his litter mates and mom they were urine soaked, full of fleas and malnourished. By malnourished I mean I could see every rib on 2 of the kittens through their fur. Tiny was clearly in the worst shape of all the kittens.
I was afraid to bathe the kittens since I was not sure if mom would accept them back as hers if they were clean. But when I saw she was trying to bathe them herself I knew I had no choice but to take on that job for her--I did not want her to ingest the filth her kittens were laden with.
I had just finished bottle feeding another litter around the clock for weeks so I was not interested in taking on another group so soon. I decided to bathe 2 of the kittens and see if mom accepted them back then I'd bathe the other two if that was a success. I always like to bottle feed 2 kittens together so they can bond with each other and interact with another kitten. I could bottle feed 2 if I had to, 4 would be more difficult and also leave mom without any kittens to care for, something that was not good for mom.
I gingerly dipped the first wiggly, grimy, urine soaked kitten into the warm, soapy water and the sink's contents turned brown immediately. I emptied the filthy water then repeated this process 3 times with both kittens before the sink water was semi-clean.
I towel dried the little ones then returned them to mom who, to my relief, immediately began to lick them dry. I then bathed the 2 remaining kittens and also returned them to mom. The person I took these cats from had bathed mom so I just left her as she was for the time being.
As I focused in on mom and her wonderful mothering ability, I realized she was not much more than a mere kitten herself--most certainly under 1 year of age. If she had not been taken off the street, her life would be one of producing litter after litter of kittens--many would not make it past the first few days of life. Her life expectancy would typically be about half of what a well-cared for cat's life span would be. This litter would be her first and last.
Mom was a wonderful mommy, she was affectionate towards her babies and me and her kittens seemed to be putting on weight and progressing naturally. Three of the 4 remained much smaller than what I though they should be but they played and ate and seemed to be doing well considering their circumstances.
Until they were about 12 weeks old...
The kittens had been weaned and were eating well on their own but I noticed 3 of the 4 kittens seemed as if they were not putting on as much weight as their larger litter mate. I kept the 3 smaller kittens together in the house where I could see them at all times of the day and night (the larger litter mate had bonded to other kittens) and gave them a diet higher in calories.
One afternoon I went to check the kittens and 1 of the kittens, Little, was dead. Angel, the only girl in the litter, was doing well but Tiny seemed to be lethargic. I started subcutaneous fluids immediately and syringe fed high calorie food into him. He rallied then crashed--rallied then crashed. A trip to the vet's uncovered nothing alarming so I brought Tiny home and worked with him around the clock. One minute he was alert and playing, the next, he was lethargic.
This morning, after sleeping just a few hours, I went to check Tiny and he was all but gone. His heart was still beating slightly so I worked on him for over an hour. I could tell he was fighting to live (he had been fighting hard his whole little life) and I fought for him. Then he was gone...
I am sad, tired beyond belief and wondering why Tiny could not live to climb trees and chase leaves and just be a healthy kitten. But I also know some of the kittens I bring into my rescue are genetically impaired (inbred) and will have major health issues--some that won't be apparent immediately--some that aren't "fixable".
And, I question if I did everything I could have done for Tiny. Deep down I know I did my best and so much more than many would even consider doing.
I remember seeing a sign years ago that said, "Do your best and leave the rest to God". I have tried to live my life out just that way in all situations including my rescue efforts. I do my best but I can't do any more. God has control over life and death, not me. Yes, I can do my part but that's all I can do.
I loved Tiny, really loved him (still do). And he loved me back. How do I know this? Tiny had a first class purr--regardless of how he was feeling--that little guy had his purr machine always turned on. Tiny's last act in this life was to purr. As I held him, sang to him and told him I loved him, he purred. He purred...
Shepherdess Blog
September 8, 2013
Jackie Deems Copyright 2013
