The Burden of Choice

A tiny kitten lays weak on the cat bed on our porch. One eye matted closed, s/he still sees me with the other. A week ago s/he would scramble away and disappear. Now s/he just lays there accepting whatever fate awaits. The energy to run is simply not there.

Not certain whether it will panic and summon the energy to bite me, I tenderly pick it up. I feel bones where I should feel plump kitten and fur. And it's cold. There were five of them last week scrambling into hiding each time we exited our front door. Now there are only two. A grey and white one still perky enough to run hide. And this little black and white barely hanging on. The other three just vanished and haven't been seen for several days. Too many feral kittens are lost this way.

I took this bedraggled soul in to my husband. He is the "cat man". His Irish heritage provides him a quick temper. As a young man, he was a boxer with a crushing blow. Aggressive on the football field. A rager in traffic. He's a sharpshooter and retired Marine. He was once interviewed about the death penalty by the New York Times in which he described in scary detail what he would do to the man that killed his first wife if he had alone time with him. But when it comes to cats, his wiry frame spins into action with unadulterated love, tenderness, urgency and precision.

The window of timing to help these little ones can be short. With the choice to act or to decide to wait and watch, can mean the difference between a chance at life and certain death. Sometimes we are able to treat them and leave them with mom. Other times, we take them inside where we can provide continuous care. Either way it can be a tenuous outcome.

With the state of this wee one, that has no name yet, I decided it had to be inside, continuous care if s/he was going to have any chance at all. Since yesterday morning, it has been getting treated with meds for eyes and nose, antibiotics, kitten replacement milk, vitamins, and some sort of squeeze tuna. I thought it was Gogurt, but it squeezed out like toothpaste. Who knew that squeeze tube tuna was a thing? My hubby of course.

We knew getting this kitten through the night would be a huge trial. And keeping it warm and temperature regulated was going to be important. So, throughout the evening, I had a kitten stuffed under my shirt that snuggled in the middle of my bra and peeked out the neck of my shirt at me. It was pretty cute seeing those eyes peering out at me for the brief instances they opened.

That was the thing, it was very uncertain whether this kitten was going to make a go of it. Although it had made it eight hours since we brought it in that morning, so that made us hopeful. When it came bed time, we wondered what to do. Hubby came up with the idea to create a snuggle box with warm blankets and put the box between our pillows so that we could put a hand in the box and keep close to the kitten. And it worked. It was very concerning though that the little rascal wasn't moving much. We persevered, though, keeping the little thing warm and continuing the meds, milk, tuna and antibiotics.

Not daring to leave the kitten home unattended, we took it to work. Hubby played nurse maid several time throughout the morning at regular intervals. When we went to lunch, we got food for ourselves and sat in the car eating and keeping the kitten comfortable.

Throughout the day, the kitten slept and moved very little. I was getting anxious that it was going to slip away with fading kitten syndrome. I hated to think of its little life being cut short and only ever knowing misery. I could only take solace in knowing that we tried and that we showed it kindness and compassion before it passed if that became the outcome. It wouldn't be the first time we've been through this with kittens and as guardians of a feral colony, it won't be the last.

But this little stinker was hanging in there. S/he actually got energetic and stepped outside its box that evening when we got home and it eagerly ate the tuna. That was very encouraging. We've already saved Ryder, Tito, Bug, and Patch which are only weeks older than this one. We had hoped one named Gus would be amongst those we saved this year. But Gus unexpectedly passed after doing so well. We had left him with his mother since he was doing great and then he didn't show up for food. I found him napping eternally by our back door under a little tomato bush where he liked to sit. It broke my heart and I felt so guilty over the choice to leave him with the colony rather than bring him inside. His other four siblings had already passed one at a time. We really wanted a better outcome for this little one.

But for all this progress and promise it briefly showed, the kitten passed in the night. Our efforts got it only a little over 48 hours more of life. We can only take solace that those hours were spent experiencing love and kindness. Something it, nor many others, get when they pass alone in the hiding place their feral mother birthed them to.

Despite the harshness of the feral world, we've had many successes saving Cinder, Skully, Fella, Bugg, Tito, Ryder, Lady Blue, Rascal, George, Grendel, Grayson, Jet, Frank Lee, Sunny, Franny, Alder, Casper, Scout, Gemmy, Houdini, Ghost, Maggie, Oscar, Scruffy, and many others.

But even with all those successes, losing one still hurts. Failure resonates to your core. And yet, we won't hesitate to spin into action for the next in need.

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