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I brought a four-day old kitten home. She was at a garage, and had been stolen by the mechanic's girlfriend's dog.
They had no idea where she belonged. He wasn't feeding her
and was just going to let her die. - I bottle fed her for
two months with a formula from the vet's. I tried to wean
her, but she was anemic and the bottle had caused formula
to get in her lung. She died at eight weeks. She and I both
worked for her to stay alive; up during the nights for
feedings and all that. Her name was Tuffy, and she was the
sweetest little kitten you ever saw. She was a playing
maniac, and my husband and she would play until they
dropped. (If I ever have to bottle feed a kitten again, I
will add an egg yolk to the commercial formula to give it
iron. - Can you believe the stuff didn't contain a bit of
iron? - - and I will use one of those feeding tubes that
goes in the throat far enough not to fill the lungs with
fluid.) I still can't take her picture off the refrigerator
even after a year and a half. Mercy. . and what made it so
difficult was that she suffered not able to breathe. We
had taken her to an all night veterinary clinic, and he
sent us home with me thinking she would be okay. I tell you
that was enough to really make me hope our little pets are
in the Kingdom of Heaven with us.