I always loved cats as a child and almost always had one in my life. There was Milo, the adorable tabby and Barkley, the black and white cat that everyone loved. Living on my own and later with my boyfriend, we wanted a pet, but never took any steps to find one. Instead, three tiny baby kittens found their way into our lives.
We were helping my dad run his flea market booth, when we heard that the woman in the booth nearby found two kittens outside. She was in the process of moving her outdoor booth to an indoor booth and uncovered two tiny kittens inside a box. The mother abandoned the two, who were so small that they still had their umbilical cords.
From the moment I laid eyes on that tiny face with the closed eyes, I fell in love. The woman worked a full-time job and could not handle taking care of the kittens. She willingly promised to give them to use the next day, provided they lasted the night. Somehow, I knew that those little guys were fighters.
When we arrived the next day, we discovered that in the middle of the night, someone found a third kitten. Without a second thought, we agreed to take all three home. If you think raising a baby is hard, consider raising triplets. Baby kittens require almost the same level of care and we suddenly found ourselves responsible for three.
We had to sleep in shifts because the kittens needed feeding every few hours. Just like babies, one would sometimes wake, not for food, but for cuddling. Before long, each had their own identity.
One kitten constantly climbed over the other two, trying to climb out of their box, even with her eyes closed. No matter where we put her, she always escaped. We laughingly called her Houdini, which we later shortened to Dini. We teasingly called one kitten Freak Biscuit because he constantly did weird little things. Later, he became simply Freaky. The third kitten was the smallest of the three and because she didn’t grow as fast as the others, we named her Runt.
We suffered through feedings every three hours, daily baths, and messes everywhere. Kittens do not use a little box and you have to stimulate them to use the bathroom. That led to dozens of ruined shirts and towels, stained with kitten poop.
When the kittens were three weeks old, Runt started acting weird. She wouldn’t eat from a bottle or use the bathroom. She cried constantly and only wanted cuddled. We decided that if she was still sick the next day, we would find a vet open on a Sunday. When we woke up that morning, the other two were curled up in one corner of the box and Runt laid in the center.
We knew without picking her up that she was gone. The other two nuzzled against her one last time, before we put her in a small plastic box. We added a piece of fabric, gave her one last kiss and buried her at my parents’ house. Last year, my parents placed Barkley right next to her. Hopefully they play together now.
The other two are our miracle babies. Dini still escapes from places, usually when someone other than her “momma” or “daddy” try to hold her. Freaky still does random things, like run across the room, do a flip and sit down to groom himself. Every time I see them, I feel grateful not only that we found them, but that they found us.