Wally and I |
Dear Diary,
Our weather is so confusing. One day it's 46 degrees and the next day it's 16 degrees. I look outside through our many windows in our apartment and am thankful that I no longer have to huddle up in the milk house for warmth. We were all so thankful for the farmer's wife, she bought us special food and let us stay anywhere on the farm that had a little extra heat.
I got pregnant in the middle of summer with litter number 2, I didn't realize that because of that, my life would change forever.
When I first moved into the vet clinic, I was a little bit timid but after I started to eat the kitten food and the high calorie wet food that was being offered, I grew to love every second. My belly kept getting bigger and bigger and my pregnancy waddle was definitely a source of laughter around the clinic. I was starting to develop a bond with one of the girls who worked there. She felt bad for me because of all of my sneezing attacks, globs of boogers. There were times it was so bad that I'd sneeze out a booger that looked like a stick. Those times were the worst, but they had to be careful what medicine they gave me, because of the babies inside of me.
The girl who I was growing close to, the person I now refer to as "mom" used to hold me when she had free time. Holding was uncomfortable for me with my enormous belly so we developed a position that was comfortable for me to be held in. I would put my forearms up on her shoulders an then I'd sort of lay laterally and kick my back legs out and she'd cup my butt to keep me from falling. I'd sit like this for hours if she'd let me. To this day, that's exactly how I prefer to be held.
One afternoon before the girls were about to head home, I started to go into labor. Usually cats and especially ones who are used to more privacy like farm cats, tend to like to do labor and delivery on their own. This wasn't my first rodeo and I didn't care who was watching, it was time and I was going to downsize my belly with or without the humans peeping in. I let them look on because I saw the wonderment in their eyes as each baby came out. It was no big deal to me.
I had three kittens. The first and second came out with no problem but the third one was a fat ass. I had to stand up and let gravity help me. I put my front two paws on the side of my queening box like some cats do when they're pooping. I pushed and pushed and finally one last little push and gravity did the rest.
The birth of my kittens took the girls at the clinic a little bit by surprise. They say that when a queen is about to go into labor, she won't eat for up to 24 hours prior to delivery. Not me, I'm a farm cat and farm cat's aren't dumb enough to pass up a free meal.
They named each of my kittens after a type of nut. There was Beechnut (Henry), Walnut (Wally) and Coconut (Coco). Coco was my only girl, until Hazel came along. Hazel was not my biological daughter, she was a kitten who was orphaned by one of the more feral cats on the farm that I came from. Since I knew her mom and I only had 3 kittens, there was room for one more. She was so tiny and had a lot of catching up to do so my original three would get kicked entirely off of me once or twice a day so Hazel had me all to herself. Orphaned kittens usually get independent pretty quickly (I would know, I now live with 2 cats who were orphaned at birth). She grew big and strong and just as beautiful as my other three. She was the last kitten to wean and let me tell you, I was ready when that day came.
(Left to right) Coco, Wally, Hazel (she's burried between Wally and Henry) and Henry |
Sometimes I miss my kittens but every kitten has to grow up and do their own thing, eventually. Plus, I'm happy with the life I have now. Except for when my poopin' papers are not up to par but that's a story for a different day.
Until later,
Nut
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