A few minutes ago, I opened the door to the office. Out in the hallway, the three cats and Shelby were standing in a circle around the cold body of one of the newborns.

I know that kitten was not stillborn - I saw and heard it mewling. I reached under the bed and pulled the other one out - it was dry and warm - obviously Rusty had cleaned it off. The dead kitten was still wet and clammy. Had she never cleaned it, or was it wet from her/their attempts to revive it? I can't say.

I cleaned it up in the bathroom sink, running warm water over it, drying it in a towel, looking, hoping, for a spark of life.

Nothing.

It's just a fucking cat - a dime a dozen, and I'm a hard-ass former Marine that's seen comrades maimed and killed. I eat meat, I hunt, and I once put down my own dog.

So somebody explain to me why I'm crying...

Little fucker never got a chance...

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Remember this little kitty, mentioned in this story?

As it happens, El Tigre is a female. Not being a good Xian kitty, she didn't put up too much of a fight when Sambo, aka Stompy, aka The Black Cat, who also happens to be the talkingest cat on the freakin' planet, (just walk in the room and he'll run up and start blabbing) doinked her when she came into her first heat, even though he's her brother.

You can see where this is going, right?

El Tigre, aka Stampy, aka Rusty, started swelling up like a poisoned pup. Just last night, CG asked me when I thought she'd domino. I told her that Rusty wasn't near fat enough yet, that it's be a few more weeks.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I am someties wrong, but rarely uncertain. ;-)

I actually took today off from work, to catch up on email and blogging. I had the door to the office shut, as just yesterday, Shelby the WonderHound had managed to knock a glass of, thank dog, water, off my desk and down onto the cable modem, hosing it and therefore my broadband connection for most of the day, while I dried the damn thing out. (Had it had been my more typical glass of beer I'da been shopping for a new SurfBoard)

So, I had all the damn animals banned from the office. Cats are a real PITA when they decide their mission in life is to chase the mouse cursor around the monitor.

I then hear the most pitiful mewling just outside the door. sounded like Little Bit, aka Ashley, the little Siamese, was crying outside the door. I open it up to find that Rusty had just squirted out two little black kittens on a pile of dirty laundry. They look like large wet mice.

Black as Saddam's heart they are, spitting images of their daddy/uncle. Must be from Alabama. :-)

She promptly dragged them off into the bedroom, and they are presently ensconced under the bed, So no pics yet.

Anyway, free kittens soon - get your reservation in now. Assuming of course, that MamaCat is a good mother, and figures out how to take care of them - I've heard that first litters can be problematic.

Looks like I'm a new KatDaddy. ;-)

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