need special nutrients. This stuff is close to cat’s milk as far as what it will do for kittens.” He grabs a couple of tiny plastic bottles from a drawer. He opens the can, fills both bottles, then hands one to me. He gently takes the kitten that looks like a tiger and holds the bottle to its mouth. It latches on with tiny paws and begins to eat immediately. “Poor little guy is hungry. Go ahead, Madison, grab a kitten and feed it.”
“Well, okay.” I reach into the box and gently pick up the kitten with all the colorful markings, then follow the lead of the vet. I can’t help but smile as the tiny kitten doesn’t take long to start draining the bottle. If only a photographer was here because this image is beyond cute. “Wow, he picked that up pretty quick.”
“See how easy it is? You’re a natural.”
“I’ve never done this with a baby. I’m an only child and didn’t work as a babysitter. I wouldn’t even know how to change a diaper.”
“Well, now you’re a cat foster parent.” His kitten finishes the bottle. “And you can’t forget to burp your kitten.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Watch. Very gently.” He places the kitten on his shoulder and softly taps it on the back with two fingers until it lets out a tiny burp.
I follow his lead with my kitten. It responds with a burp, then begins to purr, gives me a lick on my neck, then rests its head on my shoulder as it looks up at me. My anxiety seems to drain in an instant. “Awww.”
Jeff cocks his head at the kitten. “He just thanked you.”
I turn to look at the kitten. “You’re very welcome, little guy.”
We feed the other two kittens and put them back in the box where they quickly move together into a ball and fall asleep. “Okay, Madison, there’s enough formula here to hold you for a couple of days. You need to feed them every few hours.”
“Huh? Two a.m. feedings for cats?”
“They need constant care. Right now they’re helpless. And keep them in a warm place. If you have a stuffed animal put it in the box and it will make them feel more secure. A ticking clock helps to take the place of the mother’s heartbeat.” He reaches into another drawer and pulls out a bag of cotton balls. “You also have to encourage them to answer nature’s call after you feed them.”
“Excuse me?”
“The mother cat stimulates the area where they pee and poop with her tongue. You’ll have to do it with your finger.”
Okay, that makes my face tighten. “Huh? I have to touch …”
“You also need warm water and some cotton balls. I’ll show you how it works, and how to clean them when they’re done.”
It tightens some more. “I’ve gotta bathe them too?”
“No, but you have to keep them clean. It’s simple, Madison. Anyway, you can adopt them out in a few weeks.”
My face has now reached the point where I look like a woman who’s overdosed on Botox. “Weeks? Did you say weeks?”
“Yeah. Once they learn to take care of themselves.”
“Jeff, don’t you know anyone who can take them? I’m supposed to be leaving for a vacation in the Hamptons. My boyfriend is picking me up first thing in the morning.”
“Sorry, no foster homes for four orphaned kittens on a Friday night of a holiday weekend. Take ‘em with you. You’ll do fine.” He studies my face for a moment, then takes my hands. “Madison, they’ll die if someone doesn’t take care of them. Honestly, I’d do it but—”
I look at the ball of fur in the box and the guilt I feel reminds me where I came from. “That’s okay. Listen, thanks for your help.”
“That’s the spirit. C’mon, you carry the kittens back to your house and I’ll get the supplies. Then I’ll write down all the stuff you need from the pet store and what else you need to do.”
10:13 pm: First Feeding/Nature’s Call
Jeff told me it helps to keep a log of feedings, so here we go.
I have decided that my storm coverage gear is perfect for what I’m about to do next, so I don my rubber yellow slicker and matching hat. I add a pair of safety goggles as I have no idea how far a kitten can shoot.
I’ve lined up the cotton balls and warm water.
Four hours ago I was in a Prada suit ready for a vacation in the Hamptons. Now I look like a member of a Hazmat team about to rub my finger on a kitten’s … hell, I don’t even wanna think about what I’m going to do.
I take a cotton ball and dip it into the warm water and grab the colorful kitten from the box. I take a deep breath, hold the kitten at arm’s length and turn my head as I have no desire to actually see what I can feel. Ugh. The grimace I see in the mirror is off the charts as I start rubbing the area in question with my finger and within a few seconds I feel something warm which smells really bad.
“Ugh. Oh my God, this is so disgusting. I am never having kids.”
I take a peek and see the kitten is done while my finger is covered with (too much information) so I toss the cotton ball in the trash, grab a fresh one and clean the little furball. Back in the box it goes, then I rush to the sink and pour a decent amount of rubbing alcohol on my hands.
“One down, three to go.”
Twenty minutes later I’m done.
Twenty minutes after that, the Silkwood shower I’m taking runs out of hot water.
12:02 am: Second Feeding/Nature’s Call
I had just drifted off to sleep when the loud one started crying again.
Jeff was right. They’re on schedule.
At least I don’t need another shower for this part.
Oh, wait. I have to clean them after feeding them. Curses, foiled again.
I prepare four bottles with the formula and line them up on the kitchen table. As I sit I grab the colorful kitten from the box. He already knows the routine as the moment I put the bottle to his mouth he latches on and drains it. “Awww, you were hungry again, huh?” I put the little guy on my shoulder, burp it, and repeat the process with the other kittens.
I feel a twinge of maternal instinct as I look at the adorable tiger kitten sucking on the bottle, but the memory from two hours ago blows it out of the water.
Because I have to do the Hazmat routine again.
The hot water in the shower runs out after eight minutes, apparently not having had enough time to re-load.
I have got to get a bigger water heater.
3:14 am: Third Feeding/Nature’s Call.
I
