Only Mostly Dead

Two weeks ago, I was commenting on what a strange kitten season it's been, we've had a fraction the usual number in the shelter, and I've had only just a few litters of bottle babies. Last week a combined litter of 3 and 5 weeks olds comes in. They're nice and healthy, and we have a momma who recently weaned and is willing to care for them, though she doesn't have enough milk currently for all 7. So I've left the 3 bigger ones with her full time with a couple extra bottles of formula during the day for good measure, and throw the little ones in with her during the day but take them home at night. Works well enough.

Yesterday morning, a young woman calls, said she spotted a couple kittens under a bush behind the Mormon church day before, but left them there assuming they had a mom. Now one's dead, can she bring the remaining one in? When she arrives a short time later, she has a lovely 5 week old lilac female, skinny, dehydrated, anemic, and jumping with fleas. But she's strong and stable, and after she's had a chance to eat and settle in, I give her a flea bath. 

Wednesday is Ringworm Bath Day, so I spend most the afternoon bathing kittens. One litter of kittens is finally cleared for neutering and adoption, after 8 weeks of treatment! More are not cleared. One kitten in particular is very frustrating, her brothers have been clear for two weeks, she still has spots. I'm about to shave her down and take the advice of one crazy, now-out-of-business vet, and dip the poor kitten in bleach solution. I'm on the last litter of kittens, one of which has quite possibly the worst case I've ever seen. Poor little girl was nearly bald before her bath, and almost all the rest of her hair came out in the rinse. She looks like a crusty Sphynx now.

Anyway, while those guys are stewing in their shampoo, a guy calls and says he found some kittens, they're real little, and he thinks they're "not doing well," which he repeats several times. Again repeats "real little" and doesn't think the eyes are open. So I tell him to bring them in. He is very concerned and confused about having to bring them in himself. They're "not doing well." I say he'll be fine, just put them in a box, or even just wrapped in a towel. He arrives a short time later with a very nearly dead kitten in a shoebox. He apologizes, but the other one that was there this morning is gone, could only find this one. This kitten is chocolate, and jumping with fleas. "Hey, this wasn't near the Mormon church was it?" Turns out it was. So I assure him that the missing kitten came in earlier, she is with us, stable, de-flea'd and doing well. This one, however, is not likely to survive another hour. He is chilled, his tongue is blue, and he's doing that horrible agonal back-arching thing. Boys are distraught because kitten might not make it, I am KICKING myself for not telling the morning caller to bring the dead kitten too. Clearly, he wasn't dead, and 6 hours might have made the difference in being able to save him.

Regardless, I pack him in heat packs, squirt some subq fluids in him, rub some Karo syrup on his gums, and finish rinsing the last of the ringworm kittens. When I check on him later, he's responsive. So I give him a little Nutri-cal. An hour later, he's holding his head up, but acting neurological. Whatever, it's improvement!