Of one very tiny black cat
This post is nothing more than a shameless squee about my tiny little black kitten called Rabbitte.
My little Rabbitte was born on the 26th of February. He was the last kitten born alive. His two rumbunctious sisters arrived a good half hour before him, quite close together, and took to the world with squirming and meeping instantly. Rabbitte came in his own time, and at first I feared he was dead, for he was very still. But his mother was having none of it, and spent far longer licking him to responsivness than she had on the other two put together. Soon, he was culrled up with the other two, looking quite OK. Sadly, a final kitten was born an hour later, and this kitten was totally ignored by poor mammy Seven. The birth was clearly far more traumatic than the other three, and once the kitten was born we both ignored it for a short while as poor mammy had shaking fits in my arms. That final kitten was a ginger, and by far the largest of the four, but once poor mammy had recovered at all, she insisted on licking and caring for the first three, pushing the last baby away with her feet. I tried to gently pull the sack from over his head, but there was little I could do, and over the next half hour watched him die.
All the babies were born under my legs in my bed. Silly Seven of Nine. We had built several lovely nests around the hosue to give her choice as to where she would give birth, and in the preceeding days she had spent much time climbing in and out of them. But on the day in question she came in to my bed for her usual cuddle spot. When I'm reading on on the lap top she loved to climb in under my knees and sleep there. On the day of the birth she had been in her usual spot for hours. I got curious that she was squirming more than usual, and only looked down after the first kitten was already born. We lay togehter curled up like that for the rest of the birth. I didn't want to move too much in case I disturbed her. All the kittens were born into the crook of my knees or into my arms as I gently encircled her, giving her space but letting her know I was right there.
It did make rather a mess of my bed, which I couldn't sleep in for a few days. But what can you do?
Anyway, of the three living kittens, the first born girls were big and bold from the start, and highly affectionate and playful within a couple of weeks. Little rabbitte was small, and timid, terrified of people and anxious of the kitten toys his sisters loved so much. He attached himself firmly to the two adult cats, and glued to either his mother or his father. Finding loving homes for the girls was easy. They were soooooo very pretty, and so very playful, and would entertain guests with thier antics while posing for adorable photos to go on line. Little Rabbitte had a different beauty. He's totally jet black, with yellowy eyes, small and sleek and slender, and probably the softest kitten I have ever stroked - but the unremitting blackness of his coat was a challenge to photograph well in comparison to his black-and-white sisters with thier long haired fuzzyness who just ate up the lense and posed so adorably.
We gave away the two girls to a delighted and loving home, and decided to keep Rabbitte temporarity as at 11 weeks he didn't seem ready to leave his parents. It didn't take long to decide to keep him permanently. Xander missed the kittens, and went looking for them regularly, crying at me to find them over the next few days, but poor mammy Seven of Nine almost lost her mind. She cried ceaslessly, she searched everywhere, and she tormented poor Rabbitte whom she wouldn't let out of her sight, insisting that he stayed attached to her at all times, picking him up and carrying him everywhere in her mouth even if she was only moving a few feet, and trying to hide him on top of tall book cases, behind the telly and other dark corners she could find. Rabbitte in turn kept trying to run away from her, and protesting loudly at beeing treated like a new-born when he was a half-grown kitten. There was no way we could ever contemplate giving rabbitte away now, we just couldn't do that to his poor mammy.
My little Rabbity babbity wabbity has come so far since then. His anti-social tendancies have totally turned around. He still hides from almost all strangers, but will randomly decide he accepts a visitor to the house, and come out to investigate. With me, he actually seeks out cuddles and play times and will cuddle up and purr for hours. He is still tiny for his age, but very healthy looking, with the sleekest jet black coat I have ever seen on a cat. Even his whiskers are jet black. He still adores, and is adored by, both his parents, who find him mice and snakes daily and spend far too many hours teaching him to hunt all over the living room. I think he's got that skill down, I tell them, but silly Xamder and seven of Nine just won't listen, and the endless stream of things for Rabbitte to hunt continues. His mother is still feeding him, despite the fact that hes over five months now, and has been eating proper food with his parents now for most of his life. But seven seems to love his feeding times, and purrs her own head off while letting him suckle. The only time she gets ansty with him is if she catches me giving him a long cuddle, Then she will come over, and lie herself totally on top of him so I can't reach him, and demand the cuddle for herself. I am endlessly having to pick her up so she doesn't smother him, and put her beside him and show her that I have two hands, and can stroke them both at the same time. Rabbitte the daft twat of a cat will just lie there like a plank of wood, not seeming to mind being almost smothered by his mother at all, and just wait for the cuddle to resume.
So, now I have accidentally ended up one step closer to being the crazy old cat lady with not just 2 cats, but three. But Rabbitte is my special little baby cat, and always will be
My little Rabbitte was born on the 26th of February. He was the last kitten born alive. His two rumbunctious sisters arrived a good half hour before him, quite close together, and took to the world with squirming and meeping instantly. Rabbitte came in his own time, and at first I feared he was dead, for he was very still. But his mother was having none of it, and spent far longer licking him to responsivness than she had on the other two put together. Soon, he was culrled up with the other two, looking quite OK. Sadly, a final kitten was born an hour later, and this kitten was totally ignored by poor mammy Seven. The birth was clearly far more traumatic than the other three, and once the kitten was born we both ignored it for a short while as poor mammy had shaking fits in my arms. That final kitten was a ginger, and by far the largest of the four, but once poor mammy had recovered at all, she insisted on licking and caring for the first three, pushing the last baby away with her feet. I tried to gently pull the sack from over his head, but there was little I could do, and over the next half hour watched him die.
All the babies were born under my legs in my bed. Silly Seven of Nine. We had built several lovely nests around the hosue to give her choice as to where she would give birth, and in the preceeding days she had spent much time climbing in and out of them. But on the day in question she came in to my bed for her usual cuddle spot. When I'm reading on on the lap top she loved to climb in under my knees and sleep there. On the day of the birth she had been in her usual spot for hours. I got curious that she was squirming more than usual, and only looked down after the first kitten was already born. We lay togehter curled up like that for the rest of the birth. I didn't want to move too much in case I disturbed her. All the kittens were born into the crook of my knees or into my arms as I gently encircled her, giving her space but letting her know I was right there.
It did make rather a mess of my bed, which I couldn't sleep in for a few days. But what can you do?
Anyway, of the three living kittens, the first born girls were big and bold from the start, and highly affectionate and playful within a couple of weeks. Little rabbitte was small, and timid, terrified of people and anxious of the kitten toys his sisters loved so much. He attached himself firmly to the two adult cats, and glued to either his mother or his father. Finding loving homes for the girls was easy. They were soooooo very pretty, and so very playful, and would entertain guests with thier antics while posing for adorable photos to go on line. Little Rabbitte had a different beauty. He's totally jet black, with yellowy eyes, small and sleek and slender, and probably the softest kitten I have ever stroked - but the unremitting blackness of his coat was a challenge to photograph well in comparison to his black-and-white sisters with thier long haired fuzzyness who just ate up the lense and posed so adorably.
We gave away the two girls to a delighted and loving home, and decided to keep Rabbitte temporarity as at 11 weeks he didn't seem ready to leave his parents. It didn't take long to decide to keep him permanently. Xander missed the kittens, and went looking for them regularly, crying at me to find them over the next few days, but poor mammy Seven of Nine almost lost her mind. She cried ceaslessly, she searched everywhere, and she tormented poor Rabbitte whom she wouldn't let out of her sight, insisting that he stayed attached to her at all times, picking him up and carrying him everywhere in her mouth even if she was only moving a few feet, and trying to hide him on top of tall book cases, behind the telly and other dark corners she could find. Rabbitte in turn kept trying to run away from her, and protesting loudly at beeing treated like a new-born when he was a half-grown kitten. There was no way we could ever contemplate giving rabbitte away now, we just couldn't do that to his poor mammy.
My little Rabbity babbity wabbity has come so far since then. His anti-social tendancies have totally turned around. He still hides from almost all strangers, but will randomly decide he accepts a visitor to the house, and come out to investigate. With me, he actually seeks out cuddles and play times and will cuddle up and purr for hours. He is still tiny for his age, but very healthy looking, with the sleekest jet black coat I have ever seen on a cat. Even his whiskers are jet black. He still adores, and is adored by, both his parents, who find him mice and snakes daily and spend far too many hours teaching him to hunt all over the living room. I think he's got that skill down, I tell them, but silly Xamder and seven of Nine just won't listen, and the endless stream of things for Rabbitte to hunt continues. His mother is still feeding him, despite the fact that hes over five months now, and has been eating proper food with his parents now for most of his life. But seven seems to love his feeding times, and purrs her own head off while letting him suckle. The only time she gets ansty with him is if she catches me giving him a long cuddle, Then she will come over, and lie herself totally on top of him so I can't reach him, and demand the cuddle for herself. I am endlessly having to pick her up so she doesn't smother him, and put her beside him and show her that I have two hands, and can stroke them both at the same time. Rabbitte the daft twat of a cat will just lie there like a plank of wood, not seeming to mind being almost smothered by his mother at all, and just wait for the cuddle to resume.
So, now I have accidentally ended up one step closer to being the crazy old cat lady with not just 2 cats, but three. But Rabbitte is my special little baby cat, and always will be