I received the strangest stares today at the vet clinic as I unloaded carrier upon carrier from my truck. Carting the kittens into the waiting area, there were a few interested parties (simply wanting to know why I had so many kittens) but there were no takers for these beauties.

I told Dr. Ben that these kittens were an early Christmas gift (but he was not amused) although he did laugh.

I sat waiting for the kittens to be brought out after the neuter and started calculating. If there is nothing wrong with these kittens and they live as long as most inside kitties do, I will be over seventy years old when they breathe their last breath.

I look at the apathy towards these kittens, weigh in the fading economy who even with “Rah Rah Obama” at the helm doesn’t seem to be better. I take into consideration how badly the bank wants our house right now, and not because of the house, but the land, plus we are not upside down on the payments (yet) we are just running a bit late.

It used to be in rescue that it was all about the survival of the cat or kittens, but now, it has come down to our survival. It’s a simple equation with complex factors, but I did the math. I am out of rescue as of this day-

Not five minutes after I wrote this, I went outside to put food out for the kitties in the enclosure. I saw Sundance, a kitten who had survived the distemper outbreak and then gotten out of the house and vanished. I have not seen him in months! I certainly do not need another cat, but this is different, this is Muddy’s brother. He moves away from me but not in a mad scramble, so I have to believe that some part of him does still remember me. Wish me luck in the next few days as I try to gain his trust and bring him inside with the rest-

The girls are getting spayed today- hurray!! And just as I was about to leave, they had a large cancellation in surgery for tomorrow, so the boys were put on the schedule. yeah- testerone hell will be ending soon!

He appeared fine this morning, he took some time out of his busy schedule of snoozing in the sun to curl on my lap and get some snuggles. Yet, tonight, when I got home, he was looking pretty subdued and he is now wheezing and submissive.

I have him upstairs, with the vaporizer going. He has a small space heater on low and he has food and water but shows little interest in either. I picked him up to snuggle with him and watched sadly as he tried to breathe. I have put him on Baytril and will watch him carefully. Tomorrow morning, Piper and Shelby go to get spayed. I will talk to the vet when I bring them in about Rocky and if need be, I will bring Rocky in to be seen. I just hope Cheryl the bookkeeper isn’t working, I don’t need any grief about my thousand dollar vet bill right now. I just paid the whole thing off in Feb too! How quickly it grows with so many cats sharing our home.

Rock doesn’t seem to have a typical URI. His eyes are clear, there is no nose discharge, just his trouble breathing and the wheezing. I have noticed some pretty nasty colored hairballs being left the last couple of days. I groom him twice a week, but that isn’t enough for this long haired beauty. I just hope this isn’t anything serious. Rocky deserves to grow old gracefully with us, especially after what he has already lived through- as a kitten, he was offered as pit bull bait and rescued just in the nick of time by a kind hearted stranger-

My crew is strangely quiet this morning as I walk into the yard. I realize they know that one of their own is now missing. I wish I could reassure them, as they congregate at my feet, that their furry friend Dunkin met a dignified end and she did not suffer. I wish I could tell them all, how much it hurt the two of us to make such a difficult decision: to put aside all our selfish motives of wanting to keep such a courageous cat around, if just for a few more weeks. But we had to take her interests into our hearts and realize that she was only on ?loan? to us from God. But while she was here, oh the lessons she taught both of us, they will stay with us for the rest of our lives.

And now, here is her story???.

I got the phone call in July of 1993. A friend of mine who worked at a local animal shelter called to tell me about this kitten they had just received and that had just came out of quarantine. She said she was concerned to put this baby into general population, because of the abuse she had suffered. She+ asked me to please come down to see if I could help.

I immediately went there and when Diane showed me to the back room, I could see this black and white spot on a piece of fake fur tucked deep within a cage. She looked so forlorn and scared, and her eyes were as big as saucers. Deep within her eyes, I could see terror lurking. I went to pick her up, and as little as she was, she backed away spitting and hissing. Her front claws were dug in tight as she defiantly stood her ground. I eventually backed away and sat down with Diane as she told me this kitten?s amazing story.
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Her owner had decided that it would be great sport to take this kitten out to the lake in his boat and drown her. Now for cat abusers, drowning is usually when they tie a rock to a cat?s tail and toss her into water letting her sink. But this person decided it would be great sport to take this small kitten and hold her by the back of her legs and dunk her up and down in the water repeatedly until she just stopped struggling.

I am sure she put up the best fight of her tiny life, but this man had the advantage, and so he continued his sick game of ?Dunk the Kitty.? Another boat was on the lake that early morning. This one, thankfully, belonged to an off-duty sheriff?s deputy who was just trying to catch some dinner. He noticed the strange activity of this other boater, and motored closely to see what was going on.

When he realized what this man was doing, he challenged him with a shout and scared the abuser. The abuser took this tiny kitten by her back legs, twirled her over his head several times and flung her far out in the middle of the lake! As the deputy raced after the flailing kitten, the man made his escape. However, the deputy had already written down the numbers off the man?s boat, so escape was only temporary.

The kitten was then brought in to the shelter, treated and kept there, until I stepped through the door. I told Diane I would take the kitten I took the kitten home that night. I was told her chances of survival were slim to none. I set her up on a heated cat bed in the middle of our own bed and after a few hours of just monitoring her I fell asleep. About 3:00 a.m. something woke me, and I turned on the light and looked at Dunkin. She was barely moving, her eyes were not focused and her breathing raspy. I grabbed the phone and called my vet and told him I had a dire emergency and he had to meet me.

He met me at his clinic and Dunkin would spend 2 weeks there fighting for her life against a nasty infection she picked up from lake water in her lungs. Although my vet and his staff were kind and attentive to her, she learned to hate vets because of all the treatments she had to undergo to get well

I finally picked her up to bring her home along with a stockpile of medicines to help her get better. She still was a feral kitten in all sense of the word, and because of her treatment prior to being rescued, she was terrified of both my husband and myself. In order to get her medication down, we had to wrap her in a heavy towel so only her head was exposed, and treat her eyes, ears and mouth with ointments and drops and pills. We had to do this 3 times a day, and all of us came to dread this necessary ?bonding time.?

But she had courage like no other, and she survived the ordeal. As she grew, we were to find out that someone had taken a small knife and stabbed her when she was a kitten. Her scars were still there on the middle of her back, and no hair grew around them. She had a fear of dark places, and once she got her moxie back, if I would leave her to sleep in a dark room, she would yowl like the hounds of hell were at her heels. I finally figured out, she didn?t like the dark and started burning a night light for her. She stopped yowling.

She walked bow-legged, her back legs never straightened up properly and she looked much like she had just gotten off a horse after a long cattle drive. Her muscles and tendons were pretty much destroyed during her early abuse, so she always had a big belly sway when she walked. But she waltzed right into our hearts so early. She had endured so much in the short time after she was born and we just let her alone. She seemed to always be cold, and even on the hottest days would lie in the sun, and in the wintertime she would be the first kitty by the heat register once we fired it up.

She was our love and our joy, and the source of most of our laughter. She had spirit and cunning and was the most difficult of cats to pill. She was diagnosed with cancer recently, and it was quick and unexpected. We could of kept her alive for just a little bit longer. But we opted to just let her go and find her peace. To have kept her alive would of meant she would have had to have gone to the vets for chemo and treatments, been confined from the world that she loved, as we would of had to keep a close eye on her. Her life would have been the cat room instead of the whole house, or the property that she loved. It would of meant undue stress, more pain for her, when she had already endured enough. We gave her the dignity she merited. We cried and prayed for strength, reluctantly let go of our own selfish desire and we let her go. Her pain is now ours to bear.

I miss you my friend, my lap-warmer, my drool-pool, my bed buddy. I will miss you upside down on the floor laying there inviting the world as you now knew it to scratch that white belly of yours. I miss your presence under my feet as I cooked, because you know slob that I am at times, that food ?accidentally? finds its way to the floor. I know you are better off. I know your path with us had we decided on treatment, would have been one you wouldn?t of chosen for yourself. I know we did the right thing but our life has a huge hole in it right now that you used to fill. You taught me patience, and courage and love and I will never forget you as long as I live. I love you sweet Dunkin, go to be with God. You are His lap-kitty now; you have certainly earned that privilege.

This morning, one of the dumpster kitties turns out to be in full heat. She is only four months old! I called the vet and after telling them the signs of what she was doing, they have scheduled a spay for her and Piper on the 7th. The boys get done on the 13th. I tried putting her in the bedroom, but she is having none of it. She wants those boys and they are climbing the screen to get to her. Finally her yowls drove me to distraction and I just let her out. I don’t think the boys can service her, and we will break up any fights that occur until she goes in for the spay.

I have to trust that God knows what He is doing. Not sure how I am going to swing 6 neuters and 2 spays just that I have to. My article is out in Quilter’s Home Magazine and I should be getting my check any day now. Hopefully it will arrive in time so I can pick up the rest of the spay vouchers at the shelter and get them in at a low cost deal. The vouchers are twenty dollars this year. My house is so full of kittens, I have to think I must be nuts.

The flashlight beam plays along the short, shag rug. Dozens of yellow and green eyes stare up at me. I groan inwardly and flop over to look at the clock. I shouldn?t have bothered, as always, it flashes 6:00 a.m. Muddy, my black and white tuxedo kitty had settled down onto my shoulder just moments before. The pressure of this one year old on my arm brought me out of my sleep reminding me another day is upon us.

The floor, littered with kittens makes me smile. Rows of kittens, eyes glowing in the light of the beam stare up at me. I used to call them my kitty crew, but now that so many abandoned ones have found their way into our home, I call them my kitty litter, simply for the reason stated above; they litter the floor.

Predominant colors this year are black. Black kittens get no respect in this small, narrow-minded town. They are looked upon with scorn and suspicion and especially this time of year, they can come to harm from people with no morals and no conscience of hurting another living creature.

They know instinctively when to call a morning meeting and gather at my feet. I sleep on the couch these days for it allows Mike the luxury of sleeping in, something I am no longer allowed to do. They have no alarm clocks, cell phones or BlackBerry to call the meeting to order, but here they are; kittens and cats of various sizes staring up with trust at their two-legged can opener.

Reaching for my fuzzy slippers I find they have developed a weight problem overnight. Clarence, my orange boy?s rump is placed at the heel, his head buried into the toe of the slipper. I scratch his tailhead and he plays elevator butt before finally raising his head and looking at me. His eyes betray him, he is as sleepy as me. He isn?t going to be moving anytime soon.

Barefooted, I make my way carefully into the kitchen and open up the containers of food. The minute they hear the pop top go off, the kitten scramble is on- they approach at a run some of them losing footing and sliding over the length of the tiled floor. You would think they never get fed!

I bought eighteen cans of cat food on sale last night on my way home from work. The sad part about this find is by afternoon, the food will be gone. Salem, my most alpha of the black kittens grabs onto the bottom of my pajama legs and bites down. His grip is firm- he isn?t old enough to start the mating process, but he is learning on anything he finds in his path. I wish my vet would neuter early, but no one around here will do the deed until the kittens are 6 months old. By then, I am sure one of his sisters will be pregnant. He is nothing if not persistant.

They hover around, covering the floor and diving into the food trays. Dry kibble and wet food are sacrificed to the kitty litter. They devour all in their path. Piper, my alpha female, growls as she eats. At this stage in their lives ( 9 weeks old) the kittens are used to her vocal displays of aggression. Some becoming unnerved back off and seek other trays to feast upon. She is a scamp achieving her purpose of running them off. By the time they return to her tray, she will have finished the majority of the food.

The other cats arrive now through the tunnel. The floor is littered with cats, kittens and food trays. The two-legged can opener can now retire to the living room.

?.time for coffee.