Hi all! Forgive my delayed introduction.
I'm Rianna, a 21 year old college student who is a crazy cat lady in training. My mother always had at least two cats growing up and passed her love of felines on to me. Five months ago my Himalayan mix angel, Jazz, lost his battle with renal failure at 14 years old. He was my heart, especially since he was a gift from my mother who died 12 years ago. We had such a deep bond... he knew when I was sad and just how to comfort me. I'd often call him my bodyguard since he would follow me around everywhere. He slept on my pillow every night as I transitioned through childhood, adolescence, and finally young adulthood. I felt the most tremendous void when there was nothing left I could do for him and the vet recommended for him to be put down.
However, a couple days after he died I half-heartedly began looking for a new kitten, at the insistence of my friends, to give all my love to. I called all the animal shelters and rescue group I could find, but kittens are rare in the very beginning of February. As a last resort I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for a kitten. To my surprise, a women e-mailed me saying she had a 6 week old kitten that had been fully weaned from his mother and needed to be adopted ASAP since she was moving in two days. She gave me her address and my boyfriend agreed to come with me. We pulled up to a house that was condemned by the health department in the middle of the ghetto. To my horror, the women was standing outside in below freezing temperature with a cigarette in one hand and the smallest kitten I had ever seen in my life in the other. She began to get annoyed when I kept asking how old the kitten was, if it was really weaned, and about the discharge coming from his eyes. She assured me that he was 6 weeks, ate wet cat food diluted with milk since the mother stopped nursing him because the kittens grew teeth, and that the discharge was normal. As I held the tiny black and white tuxedo kitten, I knew something was wrong and that she was lying to me, but I didn't care. I could save Jazz, but maybe I could save this little guy. I was also a little thrown off when she asked for a $45 adoption fee when there was clearly something wrong with the kitten, but I gave it to her so I could get the little one out of there.
I stared in disbelief on the car ride home at the teeny ball of fur that was desperately trying to keep warm. I turned the heat on fully blast and wrapped my jacket around him. My vet was closed and I had this feeling that the kitten wasn't going to eat what the women had told me. I live 30 seconds away from a Petco and figured maybe they could help me. I brought the little one in with me and all the employees gathered around me to see him. They confirmed what I had been suspecting, the kitten was not anywhere near 6 weeks old and definitely was not weaned. They eagerly gave me a crash course in Orphaned Kitten 101 and guided me to the KMR. It took me a couple tries to get used to feeding him with a bottle, but I go the hang of it. I made him a little house out of a plastic storage bin that I lined with newspapers, blankets, and a heating pad. I woke up every couple hours to check on him and feed him. All my energy had been refocused. I couldn't be sad about Jazz anymore because the kitten needed me.
I took the earliest appointment the next day at my vet, who informed me that my kitten was barely 3 weeks old, had an upper respiratory infection, and probably hadn't been fed for days before I got him. He weighed less than half a pound and was weak, but he was a little fighter. I noticed he was a very heavy sleeper, like my late grandfather, and his black and white fur reminded me of the salt and pepper hair style my grandfather had as well. It was only natural that my little kitten would become his namesake. Teddy was the only name everyone unanimously loved since it suited him so well. Teddy amazed me veryday as he became stronger. It was thrlling to watch his first steps and the satisfaction on his face when he first learned to jump and climb.
Now I'm sure I've bored some of you all to tears. Trust me, I usually don't write this much, but when I talk about my cats, I can go on forever. Teddy is now a happy and healthy four and a half month furball. Every time I look at him I reminded how far he has come.
I'm Rianna, a 21 year old college student who is a crazy cat lady in training. My mother always had at least two cats growing up and passed her love of felines on to me. Five months ago my Himalayan mix angel, Jazz, lost his battle with renal failure at 14 years old. He was my heart, especially since he was a gift from my mother who died 12 years ago. We had such a deep bond... he knew when I was sad and just how to comfort me. I'd often call him my bodyguard since he would follow me around everywhere. He slept on my pillow every night as I transitioned through childhood, adolescence, and finally young adulthood. I felt the most tremendous void when there was nothing left I could do for him and the vet recommended for him to be put down.
However, a couple days after he died I half-heartedly began looking for a new kitten, at the insistence of my friends, to give all my love to. I called all the animal shelters and rescue group I could find, but kittens are rare in the very beginning of February. As a last resort I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for a kitten. To my surprise, a women e-mailed me saying she had a 6 week old kitten that had been fully weaned from his mother and needed to be adopted ASAP since she was moving in two days. She gave me her address and my boyfriend agreed to come with me. We pulled up to a house that was condemned by the health department in the middle of the ghetto. To my horror, the women was standing outside in below freezing temperature with a cigarette in one hand and the smallest kitten I had ever seen in my life in the other. She began to get annoyed when I kept asking how old the kitten was, if it was really weaned, and about the discharge coming from his eyes. She assured me that he was 6 weeks, ate wet cat food diluted with milk since the mother stopped nursing him because the kittens grew teeth, and that the discharge was normal. As I held the tiny black and white tuxedo kitten, I knew something was wrong and that she was lying to me, but I didn't care. I could save Jazz, but maybe I could save this little guy. I was also a little thrown off when she asked for a $45 adoption fee when there was clearly something wrong with the kitten, but I gave it to her so I could get the little one out of there.
I stared in disbelief on the car ride home at the teeny ball of fur that was desperately trying to keep warm. I turned the heat on fully blast and wrapped my jacket around him. My vet was closed and I had this feeling that the kitten wasn't going to eat what the women had told me. I live 30 seconds away from a Petco and figured maybe they could help me. I brought the little one in with me and all the employees gathered around me to see him. They confirmed what I had been suspecting, the kitten was not anywhere near 6 weeks old and definitely was not weaned. They eagerly gave me a crash course in Orphaned Kitten 101 and guided me to the KMR. It took me a couple tries to get used to feeding him with a bottle, but I go the hang of it. I made him a little house out of a plastic storage bin that I lined with newspapers, blankets, and a heating pad. I woke up every couple hours to check on him and feed him. All my energy had been refocused. I couldn't be sad about Jazz anymore because the kitten needed me.
I took the earliest appointment the next day at my vet, who informed me that my kitten was barely 3 weeks old, had an upper respiratory infection, and probably hadn't been fed for days before I got him. He weighed less than half a pound and was weak, but he was a little fighter. I noticed he was a very heavy sleeper, like my late grandfather, and his black and white fur reminded me of the salt and pepper hair style my grandfather had as well. It was only natural that my little kitten would become his namesake. Teddy was the only name everyone unanimously loved since it suited him so well. Teddy amazed me veryday as he became stronger. It was thrlling to watch his first steps and the satisfaction on his face when he first learned to jump and climb.
Now I'm sure I've bored some of you all to tears. Trust me, I usually don't write this much, but when I talk about my cats, I can go on forever. Teddy is now a happy and healthy four and a half month furball. Every time I look at him I reminded how far he has come.
