I just cleared off the dresser in the bedroom and set one of my large carriers on top. I started the heating pad to warm up the new digs for the kittens. My back is getting old and bending and stooping for this old lady becomes difficult, so I wanted to make it a bit easier. As I worked, I remembered wistfully back to the day I started first rescuing (i was in my 20’s) and everything seemed so easier back then. I am grateful God has only placed four kittens in my care at the moment versus six or eight.

This morning, I enlisted Mike’s help in bottle feeding and it became painfully clear, that for now, he can’t help me. I am going to have to enlist the aid of friends in the area on days where I work longer than 4 hour shifts. The kittens can go that long without food, but not any longer than that. Mike’s fingers no longer respond to his commands and he couldn’t hold the bottle. He also had problems holding the squirming kitten so much that I ended up taking the kitten from him before the kitten came to harm. The kitten was fine thankfully but Mike got mad when I told him he almost hurt her. I know his anger comes from the inability to do anything and the frustration of that and not at me. It was just sad.

All four kittens are doing good. I never breathe a true sigh of relief until they reach 8 weeks old because so much can happen. In their new carrier, the heat rises to help keep them warm and now I have to be careful I don’t make them to warm.

At the first feeding this morning the runt took over 3/4 of the bottle! Now that is good sign. Their purr motors are engaged now when they are nursing and a few will still try and spit and hiss at me. It’s so funny to see feralness in ones so young. I hate that I had to put them back to bed, but I have a gazillion things to do today.