If you haven’t read Part One, start here and come back to Part Two.
I can’t remember the exact details, as it was 2008, but I know my mom and I were running around like an expectant parent and grandparent, trying to get the cat in the birthing box, supply her with food and water, along with a litter box. We were feeling excitement about the impending babies. Mama Kitty stared at us with confusion and probably a touch of wondering about our sanity.
My mom had seen cats and dogs give birth before, but I had not. I’ve had cats and dogs all my life, but they’ve never come to me quite in this way: right off the press. Four for the (free) price of one.
While Mama Kitty was laboring in her nest, we kept checking every twenty minutes or so – no kittens. My mom became a little concerned by an hour in and no kittens, but she wasn’t panic level yet. By three hours, she told me there was something wrong, and if she didn’t have the kittens in the next ten minutes, we’d need to get a laboring cat into the car at 9pm-ish, and take her to the emergency vet. You can imagine the prospect. Logistically and financially, we were not prepared.
We looked in the room one final time, and…there were kittens in the nest! Three, in fact. The one holding up the conga line was Bubba, a big-headed gray kitten who was the one doing the somersaults and taking up the most room in Mama Kitty’s belly. Next to be born was Rafa, a solid black spicy boy. Finally, Susie was born. She was smaller than her brothers and she was a brown tabby.
You might be wondering how they acquired their names. I named Bubba, as he just looked like, well, a Bubba. He held the whole process up, didn’t seem to know that, and was a scarf around his mother’s neck for at least a month. Rafa was named after Rafa (obviously). I was going to name Susie “Tiger Lily,” but my mom was having none of it. “You named all of the other cats, I want to name her.” So, her name became Susie – except that it really isn’t. Her name is “Thuthie,” which is how I pronounced my baby doll’s name when I was two years old.
For several weeks, we left the little family to bond and came in only to check water, food and litter status. I’d often find Bubba as a scarf around his mother’s neck – perhaps her favorite accessory. Mama Kitty was a great mom to all of the kittens. When she was able to leave them for a time, she would escape the nursery for some attention from the humans. She knew when to return to her babies, though, and so she would.
The kittens grew fast, and soon became menaces – in a mostly good way. We’ll explore how Bubba lived up to his name, how Rafa meant Serious Business while eating, and how orange poo got all over the nursery floor, bedding and walls, which caused this panicky human parent to frantically call the vet.
Join me for Part Three: The Kittens Take Over. Coming soon…
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“It's Amy,” I said. 