I had rescued an abandoned kitten, found in my basement, some weeks back. I admit that I got very attached to him, knowing there was a risk... the sites warned me that sometimes abandoned kittens just don't last. I was hopeful that he would, because he did live for almost four weeks. I had came to this site frazzled, looking for answers on feeding him (formula and the like), as many of the sites I had read on taking care of kittens wasn't specific about that.
He hated the kitten milk and it made him sick, so I tried cow's milk for a while. But it wasn't giving him the right nutrition and thankfully someone here suggested Goat's milk. I did switch him on that and was planning to try weaning him sometime after the weekend. He was teething and trying to eat the nipple on the bottle, for two days. That was a sign for me that it was time. So, I got him a nice can of soft food and planned to mix a little Goat milk within it on Tuesday or Wednesday.
I gave him a small bath on Thursday, his first one, which was hilarious because he gave me the kitty look of, "What are you doing to me, woman??? Ahhhhh!"
And he was angry with me for the rest of that day. He was fine the next day and we watched the opening ceremonies of 2012 Olympics on tv. He gave me an odd look as I laughed at some of the skits, curious about the sounds I was making. This kitten had a LOT of personality!
On Saturday, he got sick and no longer would drink the milk... I opened up the can of food earlier than I had planned, but he wouldn't eat that either. By Sunday morning he was too weak to walk anymore. And by Sunday afternoon, he was dying... I live a very poor lifestyle, by choice, following my writing. I didn't have enough money to take him to the vet. But I did ask my mom for help and she agreed. Only Dean didn't hold out for it. My mother was ready with the money and a ride, finding one place open on Sundays... I doubted that place would help, but there was no other choice.
Dean was a fighter and he fought very hard to hold on, even though he was in a lot of pain. It hurt to watch him struggle.
When he died, I held him and kissed his forehead. Then I sang for the last time for him, "Rock You Like A Hurricane", his favorite song. Then I said to him, "You was my baby cat."
I buried him, with help, in my front yard.
It's a lot quiet now. His bottles, milk, and everything else has been put away. I keep jumping, expecting him to give out a kitty cry, from the box that's no longer there, and almost reaching for a bottle that isn't nearby anymore. I'm used to him interrupting my computer time by now, with his kitty cries that often meant, "feed me!" or "play with me!".
I know what happened... the clue was, before he died, I spotted one clear parasite leaving him. There was probably more. I didn't see any in his stool or around his area, believe me I would stare hard and it was pretty gross. He also had a "diaper rash", so I would apply cream to him too. Still I didn't see anything, until that moment. They were hiding, I guess. I feel bad that I didn't have any money to take him to a vet sooner... and my mom didn't have any sooner, as I did ask before. I guess, I wasn't the type he needed to find, the often poor writer with no real money. But, he did bring a lot of joy into my life, just that fast. It's going to be tough sleeping tonight... it seems so weird that his box isn't nearby anymore and he's not saying, "Mew!" because he hears the clicking of keys and know that I'm in the room. No more will he wake me up at 2 or 3am in the morning wanting his bottle. It's just sad.
Rest in Peace, Dean. You were my rock and roll kitten, my baby, and my friend.
He hated the kitten milk and it made him sick, so I tried cow's milk for a while. But it wasn't giving him the right nutrition and thankfully someone here suggested Goat's milk. I did switch him on that and was planning to try weaning him sometime after the weekend. He was teething and trying to eat the nipple on the bottle, for two days. That was a sign for me that it was time. So, I got him a nice can of soft food and planned to mix a little Goat milk within it on Tuesday or Wednesday.
I gave him a small bath on Thursday, his first one, which was hilarious because he gave me the kitty look of, "What are you doing to me, woman??? Ahhhhh!"
And he was angry with me for the rest of that day. He was fine the next day and we watched the opening ceremonies of 2012 Olympics on tv. He gave me an odd look as I laughed at some of the skits, curious about the sounds I was making. This kitten had a LOT of personality!
On Saturday, he got sick and no longer would drink the milk... I opened up the can of food earlier than I had planned, but he wouldn't eat that either. By Sunday morning he was too weak to walk anymore. And by Sunday afternoon, he was dying... I live a very poor lifestyle, by choice, following my writing. I didn't have enough money to take him to the vet. But I did ask my mom for help and she agreed. Only Dean didn't hold out for it. My mother was ready with the money and a ride, finding one place open on Sundays... I doubted that place would help, but there was no other choice.
Dean was a fighter and he fought very hard to hold on, even though he was in a lot of pain. It hurt to watch him struggle.
When he died, I held him and kissed his forehead. Then I sang for the last time for him, "Rock You Like A Hurricane", his favorite song. Then I said to him, "You was my baby cat."
I buried him, with help, in my front yard.
It's a lot quiet now. His bottles, milk, and everything else has been put away. I keep jumping, expecting him to give out a kitty cry, from the box that's no longer there, and almost reaching for a bottle that isn't nearby anymore. I'm used to him interrupting my computer time by now, with his kitty cries that often meant, "feed me!" or "play with me!".
I know what happened... the clue was, before he died, I spotted one clear parasite leaving him. There was probably more. I didn't see any in his stool or around his area, believe me I would stare hard and it was pretty gross. He also had a "diaper rash", so I would apply cream to him too. Still I didn't see anything, until that moment. They were hiding, I guess. I feel bad that I didn't have any money to take him to a vet sooner... and my mom didn't have any sooner, as I did ask before. I guess, I wasn't the type he needed to find, the often poor writer with no real money. But, he did bring a lot of joy into my life, just that fast. It's going to be tough sleeping tonight... it seems so weird that his box isn't nearby anymore and he's not saying, "Mew!" because he hears the clicking of keys and know that I'm in the room. No more will he wake me up at 2 or 3am in the morning wanting his bottle. It's just sad.
Rest in Peace, Dean. You were my rock and roll kitten, my baby, and my friend.
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I am SO very sorry that you lost 
little Dean. I know how hard to worked to save this little guy. He was lucky to have found you and was loved by you. That was a gift you gave the little darling. My heart goes out to you over this. 
