"Oh, Rats!"

We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!

Hi folks!

On Friday, I picked up a litter of five newborn kittens and their mom: a malnourished, sweet black kitty named Grover. She was part of a big rescue done by the Animal Friends' humane investigations department; some owner evidently was pretty negligent and irresponsible. From that home were seized some 20 cats, many of which were expectant or new mothers. It kind of reminds me of the poster situation for human welfare reform: poor, young, unwed mothers having numerous kids for whom they can't provide well. But when an animal is the mommy, it's entirely the custodial human's fault for not taking care of her and getting her spayed.

But, oh, what sweet babies resulted from this! They are tiny newborns, no more than a few days old. Their eyes are barely open, their ears are folded down, and they fit into the palm of my hand. They look like little ... rats! (Shall we scientifically call a newborn cat a "kittenus ratticus," maybe?) Seriously, they look like cute little rodents at this age! There is one black one, a black and white one, a solid grey one, a grey and white one, and a white one with a few black blotches, like a little cow. So cute!

Now, I thought the "Oh, Rats!" title simply would be a play on the appearance of newborn kittens, but then, the interjectory expression took on an unfortunate new meaning. On Sunday, I suffered an awful fall at my house and sprained my ankle. I have taken two days off of work to heal my ankle, which is so bruised and swollen that it hyperbolically reminds me of, perhaps, an inflatable Batman's foot at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I went to my doctor's yesterday, and was sent to a hospital for x-rays, to make sure I didn't fracture a bone. I'm waiting for those test results, and hobbling in an ACE bandage in the meantime.

I have to say, newborn kittens - so long as they are with their mom - are the perfect foster kittens for an injured foster mama like me. The kitty mama does pretty much all the work with the tiny babies and wants to be left alone most of the time, so I don't have to run up and down the stairs constantly! I just bring Grover some food, clean her litterbox, pet her (and the babies, a little), and then lie down and watch Grover nurse her kittens. The maternal scene is so sweet and calming.

Altogether now: aaaaaawwwww!

Until next time, I remain,

Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")