Posted By jayna on September 10, 2013
The other night, sick and tired and melting into the couch from exhaustion, I found myself being mildly chewed out by my father on the phone. “Jayna,” he said, “Why? Why in the world would you commit to taking care of something else when what you already have is running you ragged as it is?”
I’ll tell you why . . .
8 ounces of mewing, purring, wobbly fluff.
As we got ready to leave my mom’s house last Monday, I ran out to the barn to check on the kittens we had discovered in the hayloft. On the first day, they had been found nearly ready to tumble off the edge and onto the concrete floor below. We had had high hopes the mother would readily accept them back after we had to touch them and returned them to the little nest. But, instead of three sweet, little balls of fur curled up and well cared for, that morning I found two cold and hungry kittens, and one that wasn’t with us anymore.
So, into the house they went, where it was clear the mama cat had abandoned her post. And, long story short thanks to that exhaustion, the two little ones ended up making the eight hour drive home with us in a box on my lap. Down the turnpike we went, with me dutifully feeding them every two hours. Once home, we set up shop with warmers and bottles and towels and alarm clocks that blared in the middle of the night.
Now, they’re 10 days old and have completely doubled in weight. I’m patting myself on the back for managing to keep them alive through that rather stressful first week. Along with stumbling around with kitten formula on my shirt at midnight, I ended up with the flu for three days, a chest cold for two days and now we’re heading into what looking like a wicked sinus infection. But! Somehow dinner has made it onto the table most nights and we all still have clean clothes to wear, so I must be managing this new addition at least on a passing level. No shining stars or A pluses, but still, passing.
So. Yeah. Kittens.
Thing One and Thing Two.
Little Brother and Big Sister.
Or, as the husband likes to call them . . .
Hell No Not Staying and Don’t Get Too Attached