Surprise - Babies!

Is there anything better than babies?

We've got our own again - and much to our surprise!

Aaron discovered his mama cat's deposit in our three-season porch Saturday - nine days after their birth.

On Thursday, September 24th I was busy applying a strong-smelling sealant to the cement laid outdoors under the porch and on the hill behind our house. Moose was kenneled and our cats usually hunted. I was relieved not to see Tickles or Blizzard until late afternoon.

When Tickles appeared on the deck, I noticed she was thin. "You've had your babies," I cooed to her as I hurried to offer food and water by the front door away from the project and its fumes. "You'll have to bring them 'round later when this clears up."

Tickles came regularly for food and water. She hunted grasshoppers behind the house. Aaron tried to follow her back into the woods to find her nest. She alluded him. I checked the nursery basket daily to see whether Tickles had moved her bundle home. More than a week passed.

Frost set in and then days of damp, wet rain. One blustery night, Tickles met me behind the house where I was fine tuning the new drainage system. She was drenched, hungry and thirsty. I was certain no babies could have survived these elements. I hollered, "Aaron! If you value your mama cat, you'd better get a towel and rub her down. She's soaked!"

We kept her locked in the porch out of the cold overnight. On my mental checklist, I noted: "Clean porch. Remove cat basket. Wash towels." But other tasks prevailed.

Three days later, Aaron was searching for Blizzard in the porch. The 18-month-old FlopCat often nestled down in his old nursery basket for the night. Instead of Blizzard, Aaron discovered seven fur balls.

"Mom! Tickles brought the kittens! There's SEVEN of them: four orange and three calico," he reported. "But two are dead. They're frozen."

That's when we discussed the phenomenon of rigor mortis. Aaron asked, "But why would she keep them?"

I ventured, "Maybe to show us. She's never had SEVEN kittens before."

(Usually Tickles' litters number five. Once she had a litter of six and another time just one kitten - Blizzard, who was born in my bedroom closet during an April snowstorm.)

"I still can't believe she had seven kittens," I said. "She didn't seem THAT big."

Dan told Aaron to bury the dead kittens. Aaron flinched. I said, "It's better for the survivors. Just keep Tickles shut in the porch. She'll get over it." While Aaron got a shovel, Noah carried the two calico bodies out to the burial site. Upon their return, Noah moaned, "I'm so sad about those two kitties."

"It is sad that they died. But until today, we thought all of Tickles' kitties were dead," I encouraged. "She still has five furry babies. Have you held them yet?"

"Yeah!" Aaron said. "They're already opening their eyes.
I'm gonna name one Lucky. And another Survivor.
And another-"

"Survivor?" I grimaced and Noah laughed, "How about Surprise!"


Sharing the Joy
Along Life's Road.