Once upon a time, come two women into King Solomon’s hall carrying a baby. With each of them a story claiming that the baby is hers and the other was trying to steal it.
At the heat of the swear spitting, hair pulling, punch throwing bickers (I feel sorry for King Solomon but it comes with the job) the wise king lifted the baby by its heels and draw his sword.
“What about I split this baby in two and you each have half of it? Then you can go to hair salon and have all those hairs pulled out in an artistic manners if you like”
One woman said it’s a great idea, the other was horrified and admitted that she accidentally smothered her own child when she sleep but she would rather not have a child than the King kill the baby. The confession brings the light of truth: the real mother of the baby, but also a twist: the real mother of the baby is a jerk.
When I brought home two (4 days old) cat babies without mother, I found out that Tabitha and Libby were fighting over them. Tabitha: young, energetic, with a penchant of going the wrong way due to her crossed eyes, is more aggressive. She’d beat the crap out of Libby who often ended up bloodied and sore, especially on her delicate lips. At all time I find Libby sitting there quietly, watching the two babies rolling and wiggling and crawling on the blanket, as if she wished her long forlorn look will bring the babies to her side.
Everyday is the same femadrenaline dot com. Alas we don’t have King Solomon, we only have me.
Tabitha never had a baby. I got her spayed before she reached womanhood but she picked up all 11 kittens from the bamboo bushes and cared for them really well (especially in fiercely bashing whatever thing passed her lair even if it’s me), but her crossed eyes made her miss her target destination and most of the time she ended up sitting on the babies. And then, as she never have kids, she doesn’t have the expertise and she has too many (five remaining of the 11 babies)
Libby has the expertise. You can count on it on her growing number of greys. I am told that even if a female cat doesn’t have litter, if babies suck onto them they will produce milk but I don’t know if it is truth or just dare.
So when Tabitha went out to the back to play (she is still 8 months old herself) I took both babies and give them to Libby.
She put her experience to a great length of use; and Tabitha never even realize there’s something missing.
One survive out of the two and when the little baby start to wander around. Libby, without proper upper lips and front teeth (only two fangs) took all the trouble to get her kitten out of the box, put it on my door mat, and call me to get out of the room.
Libby never called before. She just sit there and watch and I should figure it out by myself.
When I opened the door, she walked in and call the little baby to follow her.
Seriously Libby, one month old baby cannot naturally follow you like a four months old.
I carried the baby in, and Libby proceeds to go to the corner of my room, drag one of my training pants off the bed, and the rest should be history, I guess.
Happy #Caturday everyone!
I am not too close to Mona of Colony Cats and Dogs of Columbus, Ohio, but Lori is; Mona is an amazing leader of the rescue group and she is currently fighting against infection, just like the baby fight for her life so I call the little girl Mona or Mona Lisa, for the heck of it, or you can find out why in her photo below (hint: round face and muted smile).
It’s a tough job rearing kids but I do hope you can help me make Mona Lisa smile and live happily ever after by one of these three ways below, it’s really easy:
1. Click the donate button on The Whiskers’ Syndicate’s facebook page
2. Go to PayPal and send a donation to paypal.me/whiskerssyndicate
PS: Seriously aren’t you tempted to share all those cuteness overload and help us fund raise? We are falling very short of donation this week, eek!