Biscuit is the first pet that my partner and I had that survived. This sounds a little ominous, I know! After being married for a little over a year, a woman came into the ER I was working at and had a tiny, cold, and filthy little ball of mew. It barely moved. I am a sucker for itteh bitteh kittehs, and so of course I scooped the helpless, mute, deaf, and blind puddle of beige fur into my warm hand.
The kitten had amniotic sac, dried and crusty, adhered to her fur. She nuzzled my palm and tried to croak out a sound. Her mama cat had obviously not taken care of this poor thing.
The lady who brought this kitten in had told me that a feral mama cat had taken up residence in her house, under her bed. The woman had abandoned her own bed to sleep on the couch in order for mama cat to have free reign in the bedroom. Mama cat was vicious - and spookable. The only photo the woman had was of the mama cat in the woman's kitchen sink. She was hunkered down, only eyes and ears showing above the counter top. Her tapetum lucidum reflected her hate and her ears were plastered to her cranium.
The woman explained that the mama cat had four kittens, but this one was left off to one side. Abandoned. This raised a red flag, as mamas seem to know when there's something wrong. And they simply let the newborn die instead of invest energy into a lost cause. But as a new technician, and a complete sucker, I volunteered to take this kitten in and give it a chance.
Feeding newborn kittens isn't as easy as it sounds. They don't take to latex nipples very well, especially since the nipple on the bottle is huge compared to the tiny maw. And so I learned how to drop KMR into her mouth and let her swallow. She perked up, got a bath, and took a nap.
Everything seemed to go well for three days. I took her to work every night, and woke up every two hours to feed her during the day. She got a bath every day because she seemed to have trouble passing stool without being in a warm bath.
On the third day, while we were at work, the kitten took an acute turn for the worse. Her blood sugar plummeted into the 30s and 40s. I fed her, gave dextrose orally, and monitored her every fifteen minutes. All in vain. She died at 6:45am on a Friday.
My veterinarian offered to do a post....a necropsy. She found a few possible congenital defects, but with a three day old kitten.....they could've been part of a natural newborn anatomy.
After she died, I told the woman who brought her to the clinic. The woman said she was concerned about the other kittens. The mama cat didn't want to go near them. They would cry out, and she would feed them when she had to, but she spent most of her time apart.
I went to go visit the kittens. They seemed outwardly healthy. But the mama cat had taken off. They were hungry and mewling and desperate. So I took them home with me.
I don't condone taking babies from their mother. I have made mistakes in my career, and I will not say that I've been immaculate in my choices. A part of me was giddy with excitement that I could have a litter of kittens. To this day, I don't know what would've happened if I let those kittens stay at the woman's house. All I know is that when it comes down to it, I ended up with my best companion that day.
There were two cream colored kittens and a blue tabby kitten. Biscuit was named because she looked like a blob of dough. Her brother Sid Vicious was named by my sister for his unruly hairdo. He is a cream male. The blue tabby was named Doobie by a coworker. She ended up taking him home at 8 weeks old.
All the kittens had bowel problems, and required enemas every other day until six weeks old. They all have had litter box issues, which I've attributed to their long history of feral cattitude. I've only really followed up with Biscuit and Sid, since I have B and my sis has Sid. They're nearly identical attitude wise. Both very particular in the humans they allow to touch them. Biscuit talks a lot. And she loves going for walks.
Biscuit is a lean, cream cat with white milk paws. Her belly has a white streak, and she is soft as ever. She has an authoritative voice, and a penchant for walking on a leash outside. She likes nobody, save for me, and her green gold eyes speak volumes.
She comes when called, can say 'no' and 'moooooooom' as well as any child. She allows me alone to pick her up and manipulate her (including trimming her nails). And after ten years, she has finally allowed the kids to pet her. She is the Boss Of The House and is challenged by everyone...and always wins! She requires dexdomitor for any and all veterinary exams, and hasn't been sick a day in her life.
I am aware this means she will live strong until she succumbs to a tragic disease....but I'm gonna love her till the end of time. Biscuit is my familiar. My soul mate. And I love her.
