Two years ago today my little Doc and my Nessa were born...I had taken in their mother who was a stray and before I'd known it..I had two little kittens on my hands too. One was Nessa Rose who was severely deformed with no eyes, hare lip, and ruined jawbone. The other was Doc-Doc Barker. xD She was my fuzzy, black little ball of joy. She had her share of problems but was the healthier of the two.
The vet told me from the beginning that Nessa and Doc probably wouldn't live long and that I might want to consider putting them down to save myself the heartbreak and the expense of caring for the very sick little kitties. But I couldn't do it. Not while they were lively and trying to fight. So they became my projects. I got up every two hours or so to feed them with a little baby syringe. I cleaned them and looked after them as if they were my own children, and they were. The mother was in no such shape to care for them. She was bone thin and recovering from the birth herself. Fortunately she did get healthy again, and we were able to rehome her after a few months, with a loving family that still sends me pictures to this day.
Nessa Rose lived for three months. And every single day was a battle that took every thing the both of us had to get her through it. My girlfriend asked me once why I was willing to break my heart for her..I told her that Nessa was worth it..and that she just needed someone to believe in her. She was a darling, even stumbling around blind she'd manage to find me. I'll never forget the day she actually got out of her basket and came to the edge of the bed and mewed a tiny bit. I was so proud that I cried. Her last few days were hell. Every bit of her body was weak, but she seemed to be getting better. And then one morning I got up to feed her and she was gone. I thought my heart was literally breaking, and maybe it was because I still can't look back without crying.
Doc-Doc lived for far longer than Nessa. A year and three days she lived. She never got over three pounds, and she was always the size of a three month old kitten. I struggled just as hard to keep her alive, going through the same routine as I did with her sister. Doc grew stronger quickly though. She had severe seizures, Narcolepsy, and very, very, very, very weak lungs. But before long she could run and scale up my pants leg and shirt until she was perched on my shoulder like a parrot. I never could break that habit with her. She'd follow me everywhere, especially after we lost Nessa. She was very close to my heart, little Doc. Those big yellow eyes, and that messy, long fur that stuck out at all the wrong angles. The way that she'd open her mouth to meow and never could get a sound out. Just a whoosh of air when she tried. It was sad but extremely cute as well.
She fit in brilliantly with Peeki and I, it was before Skittles. I never dreamed of rehoming her, not once. She'd curl up next to the two of us on the couch and watch television, or crawl into bed with us at night..she was Peeki's best friend in the entire world, and probably one of mine as well. And then after a year..almost inexplicably, she just gave out. The temperature dropped dramatically and she got very sick very quickly although I kept her inside constantly and out of the air..it still seemed to affect her. Vet visit after vet visit, and fight after fight, I finally lost my darling angel. She dropped into a coma and I thought that I would do anything to end her suffering, I thought that the next morning if she showed no signs of recovery..I might even have the vet...but she couldn't make it that long. She dropped off and died at three in the morning.
I stroked her little cheek and sang to her until couldn't even understand myself around the tears. I thought losing Doc would kill me. I'm very glad though that while she and Nessa were with me, I was able to give them a happy life, and that they were able to know love in life. If nothing else I am grateful that we had the chance to spend our short time together and I am sure that where ever they are now, they are probably happy together.
The vet told me from the beginning that Nessa and Doc probably wouldn't live long and that I might want to consider putting them down to save myself the heartbreak and the expense of caring for the very sick little kitties. But I couldn't do it. Not while they were lively and trying to fight. So they became my projects. I got up every two hours or so to feed them with a little baby syringe. I cleaned them and looked after them as if they were my own children, and they were. The mother was in no such shape to care for them. She was bone thin and recovering from the birth herself. Fortunately she did get healthy again, and we were able to rehome her after a few months, with a loving family that still sends me pictures to this day.
Nessa Rose lived for three months. And every single day was a battle that took every thing the both of us had to get her through it. My girlfriend asked me once why I was willing to break my heart for her..I told her that Nessa was worth it..and that she just needed someone to believe in her. She was a darling, even stumbling around blind she'd manage to find me. I'll never forget the day she actually got out of her basket and came to the edge of the bed and mewed a tiny bit. I was so proud that I cried. Her last few days were hell. Every bit of her body was weak, but she seemed to be getting better. And then one morning I got up to feed her and she was gone. I thought my heart was literally breaking, and maybe it was because I still can't look back without crying.
Doc-Doc lived for far longer than Nessa. A year and three days she lived. She never got over three pounds, and she was always the size of a three month old kitten. I struggled just as hard to keep her alive, going through the same routine as I did with her sister. Doc grew stronger quickly though. She had severe seizures, Narcolepsy, and very, very, very, very weak lungs. But before long she could run and scale up my pants leg and shirt until she was perched on my shoulder like a parrot. I never could break that habit with her. She'd follow me everywhere, especially after we lost Nessa. She was very close to my heart, little Doc. Those big yellow eyes, and that messy, long fur that stuck out at all the wrong angles. The way that she'd open her mouth to meow and never could get a sound out. Just a whoosh of air when she tried. It was sad but extremely cute as well.
She fit in brilliantly with Peeki and I, it was before Skittles. I never dreamed of rehoming her, not once. She'd curl up next to the two of us on the couch and watch television, or crawl into bed with us at night..she was Peeki's best friend in the entire world, and probably one of mine as well. And then after a year..almost inexplicably, she just gave out. The temperature dropped dramatically and she got very sick very quickly although I kept her inside constantly and out of the air..it still seemed to affect her. Vet visit after vet visit, and fight after fight, I finally lost my darling angel. She dropped into a coma and I thought that I would do anything to end her suffering, I thought that the next morning if she showed no signs of recovery..I might even have the vet...but she couldn't make it that long. She dropped off and died at three in the morning.
I stroked her little cheek and sang to her until couldn't even understand myself around the tears. I thought losing Doc would kill me. I'm very glad though that while she and Nessa were with me, I was able to give them a happy life, and that they were able to know love in life. If nothing else I am grateful that we had the chance to spend our short time together and I am sure that where ever they are now, they are probably happy together.
