On Easter Sunday as I was doing the afternoon chores, somewhat
drunk tipsy from drinking mimosas with the neighbors all day, I heard the unmistakable meow that only kittens make. It was coming from our hay shed and as I poked around looking for the source, she saw me and came right to me. I scooped her up and waited for her siblings to chime in. They didn’t. I waited for Momma to return. She didn’t.
That evening after a trip to Wal-Mart for replacement milk and the smallest syringe we could find we set up a kitten box and started the process of feeding, eliminating and just generally trying to keep this little girl alive. I guessed her to be two weeks old. In my head I named her Ginger, but knew better than to say it out loud.
Although the hubby and I tried to puzzle it out and somehow come up with a management situation to incorporate this sweet girl into our lifestyle, in the end given her needs and our jobs it really wasn’t feasible to feed her every 2-3 hours. Not to mention that with three dogs in the house, two of which are hounds, this new
snack addition was not an ideal situation.
In the end we decided to take her to Animal Care and Control. We are fortunate that our county facility actually has a kitten nursery. I figured it was the best shot we could give her and I was actually hopeful when we left her there, that they would support her until she was old enough to be adopted.
Today I called to see how she was doing. She didn’t make it. They had to make the call to euthanize her about a week after we dropped her off. She was just too malnourished and dehydrated. I’m heartbroken. Rest in peace sweet little girl. I’m sorry we could not do better by you.