This is the story of Punkin...
As most of you know, my mother has 16 cats at her house and can barely take care of them. One cat, Saturn (Magnum and Clarity's daughter), got outside a month+ ago and a stray planted his seeds with her. October 19th(Sunday) around 2100hr(9:00PM), my mother heard kitten squeaking from behind my sisters old desk, but couldn't get behind there to take a look.
Finally around 1500hr on Monday, a little kitten appeared from behind the desk. What she saw terrified her.
The right hind leg was a bloody mess and half the leg was missing. After gathering herself, she managed to get behind the desk, only to find nothing. Saturn had only given birth to one kitten.
In a frenzy, she took Saturn and the, later to be named, kitten to the Wilton Animal Hospital where they had to give Saturn an emergency C-section to remove the other kittens stuck inside of her.
After the C-section, all was well at the animal hospital with Saturn feeding her newborns. While preparing to pack everyone up to go home, a technician heard horrifying screams coming from the cage. She rushed over to see what was the matter, when she found Saturn casually chomping on the first kitten's hind leg and tail.
Mother's in nature can sense things that humans can't. They can sense if there is something wrong with the infant, to where it wouldn't be worth raising them to adulthood. If they see fit that there is something wrong with the baby, they will either kill it or abandon it to die of starvation, hypothermia or come prey to a scavenger. Was there anything wrong with the first born runt? Only Saturn can tell us that.
And as most of you know, I'm a crazy animal lover. After hearing this from both my mother and my sister, I told Jon that we were going to go get the runt and hand feed it at our apt. Scared I was going to gnaw his leg off, he agreed and we headed off to Milford to retrieve the helpless baby.
After arrival, even I was horrified upon what I found. Not only did it has a bloody, oozy hind quarter, it was probably half the size of any kitten I have ever come in contact with. Knowing time was against us, we took the baby in a towel, grabbed syringes and formula and headed off back to our wooded abode. But only to give him his name of Punkin on the journey home.
For the first few hours I kept him on a towel, on my bare legs, under a blanket, while trying to occasionally feed him. Although I was not successful. He suckled on the nipple to a bottle for a brief second, then turned around and feel back asleep. It was a bitter sweet sight for me.
2300hr rolls around and Jon and I are exhausted from the days activities, only to become more fatigued just from the thought of the long night ahead. Feedings every two hours. Taking turns?
After settling Punkin down in his temporary home/bed, Jon and I both tried to sleep. He was very successful, while I lied awake, just thinking, while listening to my Home Improvement show in the background. Every little squeak, moan, rustle was a good sign that he was at least strong enough to move around.
He didn't eat as much as we was supposed to, but still got a decent amount of formula in him. Frustrating did kick in a few times from his strong vocal cords beating off my ear drums, only to think "there is nothing more I can do." It was particularly hard when I was forcing myself awake every 2 hours throughout the night, only to try and feed the tiny baby when all it did was cry and not eat anything. Lets just say my make up didn't stay in place at all that night.
0800hr comes along.. Punkin is sleeping silently. But me being "mom" I had to disturb him for another feeding. It didn't go as well as I was hoping. He didn't want much to do with the bottle or the syringe. But being mom, I had no choice but to force feed him, knowing it was his only chance of survival. He took a few good drops, but just pushed the syringe away and turned his head. I returned him to his hand warmer with a towel on top, in his little box of a home, until the next two hour feeding time.
Sadly when I awoke around 0930 and checked on him, he was still. Still warm from the hand warmer, it was hard to tell how long ago he had passed. Devastated, I took the make-shift home of his, with him still resting in it, into the livingroom for a goodbye chat and a good cry. Punkin was so much more than a dying kitten to me. He was more like a second chance kitten. Although I knew I was going to get a attached and I knew the odds were definitely agaisnt him, I took on the task anyway hoping to prove nature wrong. Not many animals get a second change if the mother abandons them or trying to kill them, but Punkin did. He was just too weak and too much time had passed after being mutilated by his own mother to save him.
Finally around 1500hr on Monday, a little kitten appeared from behind the desk. What she saw terrified her.
The right hind leg was a bloody mess and half the leg was missing. After gathering herself, she managed to get behind the desk, only to find nothing. Saturn had only given birth to one kitten.
In a frenzy, she took Saturn and the, later to be named, kitten to the Wilton Animal Hospital where they had to give Saturn an emergency C-section to remove the other kittens stuck inside of her.
After the C-section, all was well at the animal hospital with Saturn feeding her newborns. While preparing to pack everyone up to go home, a technician heard horrifying screams coming from the cage. She rushed over to see what was the matter, when she found Saturn casually chomping on the first kitten's hind leg and tail.
Mother's in nature can sense things that humans can't. They can sense if there is something wrong with the infant, to where it wouldn't be worth raising them to adulthood. If they see fit that there is something wrong with the baby, they will either kill it or abandon it to die of starvation, hypothermia or come prey to a scavenger. Was there anything wrong with the first born runt? Only Saturn can tell us that.
And as most of you know, I'm a crazy animal lover. After hearing this from both my mother and my sister, I told Jon that we were going to go get the runt and hand feed it at our apt. Scared I was going to gnaw his leg off, he agreed and we headed off to Milford to retrieve the helpless baby.
After arrival, even I was horrified upon what I found. Not only did it has a bloody, oozy hind quarter, it was probably half the size of any kitten I have ever come in contact with. Knowing time was against us, we took the baby in a towel, grabbed syringes and formula and headed off back to our wooded abode. But only to give him his name of Punkin on the journey home.
For the first few hours I kept him on a towel, on my bare legs, under a blanket, while trying to occasionally feed him. Although I was not successful. He suckled on the nipple to a bottle for a brief second, then turned around and feel back asleep. It was a bitter sweet sight for me.
2300hr rolls around and Jon and I are exhausted from the days activities, only to become more fatigued just from the thought of the long night ahead. Feedings every two hours. Taking turns?
After settling Punkin down in his temporary home/bed, Jon and I both tried to sleep. He was very successful, while I lied awake, just thinking, while listening to my Home Improvement show in the background. Every little squeak, moan, rustle was a good sign that he was at least strong enough to move around.
He didn't eat as much as we was supposed to, but still got a decent amount of formula in him. Frustrating did kick in a few times from his strong vocal cords beating off my ear drums, only to think "there is nothing more I can do." It was particularly hard when I was forcing myself awake every 2 hours throughout the night, only to try and feed the tiny baby when all it did was cry and not eat anything. Lets just say my make up didn't stay in place at all that night.
0800hr comes along.. Punkin is sleeping silently. But me being "mom" I had to disturb him for another feeding. It didn't go as well as I was hoping. He didn't want much to do with the bottle or the syringe. But being mom, I had no choice but to force feed him, knowing it was his only chance of survival. He took a few good drops, but just pushed the syringe away and turned his head. I returned him to his hand warmer with a towel on top, in his little box of a home, until the next two hour feeding time.
Sadly when I awoke around 0930 and checked on him, he was still. Still warm from the hand warmer, it was hard to tell how long ago he had passed. Devastated, I took the make-shift home of his, with him still resting in it, into the livingroom for a goodbye chat and a good cry. Punkin was so much more than a dying kitten to me. He was more like a second chance kitten. Although I knew I was going to get a attached and I knew the odds were definitely agaisnt him, I took on the task anyway hoping to prove nature wrong. Not many animals get a second change if the mother abandons them or trying to kill them, but Punkin did. He was just too weak and too much time had passed after being mutilated by his own mother to save him.