I remember the very first time I was at the perfect place and time to see kittens being born.
My family was living in Reno, Nevada, in the mid-1960s. I was but a wee one, maybe 10. In the 1950s the push was to have a bomb shelter in every basement in the country. The Rooshkies (Russians) were what our nightmares were about at the time. So my family had a dug-out, thick cement-walled spot in our basement.
Of course, the worldwide Cold War had lost some ground by the 1960s, so our bomb shelter was just a cold, dark, catchall hole. Just a memory. It must have once had a big door that locked from the inside, but it no longer hung on the frame.
But — yes, an icy Cold War but — at least the schools knew how to protect us. They had drills where the kids were to “hide” under our desks in case of a nuclear attack. It truly was as messed up as the COVID fiasco we just went through a few years ago.
Like a bright flash — let’s get back to kittens.
I don’t like basements. I never have. I will not (hopefully) ever live in a house with a basement. I have hauled my last pool table up out of a basement!
However, my family had a basement, and that was where my bedroom was and where the ironing was done on weekends. I was just a kid, but I was ironing, and I kept hearing our cat meowing.
Going to check on her whereabouts, I found her huddled in a box of old blankets in the bomb shelter.
It was the exact moment I looked into the box with a weak little flashlight that she flipped up, turned around mid-air, and — as she landed — a kitten fell out of her!
Oh my goodness. It was so cool. At 10 years old, being a town-grown kid — a townie — seeing that first baby anything being born was icky, too. More cool than icky. Must have made quite a dent in my brain to remember it this long.
I have seen probably hundreds of things coming out of places — being born into this world — over the years. Each time I am still in awe.
Watching kittens and puppies is the best. Cows and sheep are cool, but with kittens and puppies I’ve never had to pull one out. Or push one back in that came out backwards, then pull it out.
After the plop of new life, it’s amazing how new mommas — about 98% of the time — know exactly what to do. Clean up, dry off, talk and coo the new life to life.
I don’t think I know anyone in my circle who hasn’t bottle-fed some kind of animal to weaning stage.
With kittens and puppies, seeing eyes and ears start to open, to see and hear. Wobbly legs get stronger as independence becomes evident.
With farm animals, that comes just hours after birth. With kittens, the “hooman” gets to watch the growing up — see all the cute, fun, and funny stages as babies grow.
Then it happens. Those cute little balls of fun turn into cats — that will need to find their forever homes. Before the “season” happens again and you’re hoarding 30-plus cats!
Ah — now we get to it. The miracles of life. The responsibility of making sure that doesn’t happen. Over and over again.
Unless you live in a cave, at some point you’ve heard or seen someone who has not taken care of this situation and now has more four-footed residents than is healthy — for the person or the animals.
Yes, the spay-and-neuter “fix” season to this growing problem is in communities everywhere.
I have outside cats, but I’m not the proverbial crazy old cat lady. In my past 50 or so farming years, I’ve given away hundreds of kittens to my farming neighbors.
Some years the population would get fairly large. That’s when disease can creep in.
Finding a wild litter of little kitties with eyes stuck shut with ick is not a good thing. Now I have every kitten or cat that lives here “fixed.”
The last time I made a concerted effort to do the “fix and repair” of my mouse-getting herd, it took a full year to catch, tame, and transport them 92 miles each way (twice for each batch), and snippety-snip each one.
Now — come spring, summer, fall, or winter — the MEOOOWWWOWOWOW call of the wild is not the early morning music I wake up to!
Check animal shelters and vets for cost-helping programs. Have your cats and dogs spayed or neutered. Your pets — and your neighbors — will thank you.
Trina lives in Diamond Valley, north of Eureka, Nevada. She loves to hear from readers. Email her at itybytrina@yahoo.com
Really!
Comment
Comments