The first litter has been dubbed the "Legend of Zelda" litter. I woke up the morning of the 23rd to the cream and white female dying. She was too far gone to reverse her condition, she died maybe 20 minutes after I found her. That night Zelda, the one who was nearly dead when they arrived, crashed again. I was up most of the night with her, but pulled her through with Nutrical and fluids. She purred almost non-stop the whole time I held her. Then a couple days after that the little runty calico, Fi, crashed. I pulled her through too. She's still so skinny and won't have anything to do with a bowl. And she never quite figured out how to nurse either. So she's still being dribble-fed, a time-consuming and inefficient method of feeding to say the least. Otherwise, the kittens are doing mostly well. Eating out of a bowl, nursing, and staying plump. They're really, really bad about the litter box though. Hit and miss; mostly miss.
Klondike the Crippled Foster Dog is fascinated by the kittens. I'm not entirely sure quite what the *nature* of this fascination though. Sometimes I get the feeling that he really wasn't good with cats before he got too sore to do anything about them, and started living with people who placed cats above dogs in the pecking order. I'm not sure if he thinks they're snacks or toys. At any rate, I will not trust him with the little ones like I did Sissy.
This afternoon another dehydrated, weak stray kitten arrived, sporting a swollen, useless hind leg. He's going to be another challenge, I fear. He has little to no interest in food. He's had the usual round of fluids and Nutrical. He's cozy in a cage and has even used his litter box, but he's got a long ways to go. I have named him Pacman.
On a side note, I'd really like to get kittens that *aren't* practically raisins some time. Poor little dried out things. Sigh. Gonna be another long night.
No comments:
Post a Comment