The Wonder of Life
Two nights ago our pregnant cat gave birth to seven healthy kittens. Which in and of itself is a miracle, considering that she had basically been abandoned for the first three weeks of her pregnancy. By the time we found her, she was already swollen. I don't know how she found enough food to keep her babies on her own. Pregnant mothers need a lot of food, and it's hard enough for a cat to survive catching mice just to feed itself, much less seven embryonic kittens.
She gave birth to the first three quite easily, cutting the umbilical cord and licking them to stimulate breathing. But she quickly grew tired (remember, the air was broken) and pushing them out was all she could manage. That left me with the crucial task of removing the sac around them, rubbing their cheeks until they stirred, and then cutting the cord myself. Since I couldn't find a pair of scissors, I had to use my fingernails. It's amazing when you sit there and watch a newborn kitten lay perfectly still- for a moment you fear he isn't going to make it, and then he shudders and takes in his first breath.
The first six all followed in quick succession, and I had convinced myself that she was through when, two hours later, she started contracting again and pushed out a seventh. Being the runt, it was tiny, but it quickly found a nipple and started feeding.
The mother cat (called a queen in cat breeding parlance) is a good mother. She's never out of sight of her litter, and jumps in to feed them whenever they start to cry. I'm glad, for I've heard there are queens who will abandon their litters or be terribly lackadaisacal about the whole affair.
Most of them are gray tabbies, but one of them is solid black. My grandfather, who was incredibly superstitious, is no doubt turning over in his grave.
She gave birth to the first three quite easily, cutting the umbilical cord and licking them to stimulate breathing. But she quickly grew tired (remember, the air was broken) and pushing them out was all she could manage. That left me with the crucial task of removing the sac around them, rubbing their cheeks until they stirred, and then cutting the cord myself. Since I couldn't find a pair of scissors, I had to use my fingernails. It's amazing when you sit there and watch a newborn kitten lay perfectly still- for a moment you fear he isn't going to make it, and then he shudders and takes in his first breath.
The first six all followed in quick succession, and I had convinced myself that she was through when, two hours later, she started contracting again and pushed out a seventh. Being the runt, it was tiny, but it quickly found a nipple and started feeding.
The mother cat (called a queen in cat breeding parlance) is a good mother. She's never out of sight of her litter, and jumps in to feed them whenever they start to cry. I'm glad, for I've heard there are queens who will abandon their litters or be terribly lackadaisacal about the whole affair.
Most of them are gray tabbies, but one of them is solid black. My grandfather, who was incredibly superstitious, is no doubt turning over in his grave.
posted by Yorick at 10:27 PM
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