On Saturday May 22, 1993, I was the first to arrive at work to open up and clear the answering machine. On the machine was a message directed to no one in particular, name and phone number only. When my boss arrived, I gave the message to him, and he made the call back. I heard him ask, "Is this about cats? It will cost you $5.00 to talk to her." I then picked up the phone. The female voice proceeded to tell me that she called so and so, to get so and so's number who in turn gave her this number to reach me. She spoke with great urgency. She remembered how well I did with the kittens in the garage the year before and hoped that I could help.
There had been a pregnant female cat in her area who had since given birth and was found at 7:00 that morning, dead in the road. This individual was all packed and loaded and moving to Montana, permanently, within the hour.
I had a day of work to put in, and I would have no contact person in the area, but I told this individual that I would see what, if anything, I could do right after work. I left work at 5:00 PM with some basic supplies and a carrier. All I had to go on was this individual's former address, and the location where Mama cat was hit. I was not at all familiar with the area, knew no one, and had no clue as to where the kittens, now motherless, for almost 10 hours might be.
I started by asking anyone around about the Mom cat. If perhaps they had seen her come or go from any yard, alley, garage, anywhere at all. Most of the response was, as per usual, don't know, don't care, with that "are you totally nuts" expression on their faces. I walked, I looked, I listened, and checked everywhere I could. Hours passed, it would soon be dark, my heart and spirits hit bottom. Finally, I was directed by two children to a house with a fenced in yard. I went to the door, and an elderly women answered. I explained as calmly as possible that perhaps there were motherless kittens in her yard that would perish if not found, removed to warm dry safety, fed and cared for.
This being the year of the BIG spring floods in the Mid West, it came down to my promising this women that I would totally replant her garden, if necessary, if I disturbed anything in my search. Through the mud and terraced garden and yard I searched, and finally found four kittens. Into the carrier, and off in the car we went.
Once home they were cleaned up, dried up and warmed up, I bottle fed them one at a time every few hours and hoped for the best. We gained a bit day by day, and in a matter of weeks, they were doing just fine. They were wormed and vaccinated, and enjoying life in the cat playground I call home.
When July brought disaster to my life, followed by more of the same the first week in August, the last thing I could deal with was screening potential adopters for these babies. The four kittens were all males, a plus I figured, a bit less costly to alter. I didn't need four kittens or the expense, however, I knew that somehow by the time they were due for the surgery I would find a way to pay for it.
Their names came as follows:
During the trying times, I would say to them in general, "Should we just keep you?" The shorthair Chocolate Mac Tabby and White kitten would always proceed to do something silly, as if to seal the deal. So Keep-U he is.
When I leave in the morning I always say "Love You" to all the cats. The longhair Chocolate Mac Tabby and White seemed to think it was meant just for him. So he is Love-U.
The shorthair Seal Point always came to find me, and had to know just where I was. I would always assure him by saying it's O.K., I see you. So I See-U he is.
The longhair Blue Mac Tabby and White kitten became Blue 4-U. as much for his color as for his way of being. He is not totally all right. Slow to learn, catch on, untrusting, fearful, not at all like his brothers. The cause could have been from his birth, an early injury, lack of warmth and food from Mama for all those hours, whatever. He has a place with me forever, where he can be himself, and live the best life possible in safety. It matters not to me, he has a HOME.
And so it is there are four more "Loves" in my life, each with four feet and fabulous fur.
On Sunday I returned to the yard from which I rescued the kittens, checked to make sure there were not any others, and as promised, repaired the damage to the garden, and cleaned the mud from the walkway and drive.
It was then that I also learned that the kittens were born about May 2nd, making-them 20 days old at the time I rescued them. Just about what the Vet and I figured.
I was also told that Mama cat and Papa cat were both living life in the streets for almost a year, possibly longer. Papa is a Seal Point Siamese, and poor Mama was very much like a Brown Mac Tabby and White Maine Coon Cat. Neither carried their "proper papers" with them, and I am sure neither asked to be tossed out to live in the streets.
On a somewhat happier note, I went back again and again the following week, trapped Papa cat and took care of all of his veterinary needs. During my time spent in the area, a family took interest in my effort. I kept in touch with them, and Papa cat (who'll never be a Papa again), now lives with this nice family "in" a nice house in the neighborhood he used to roam.
Mama cat came home too. On that Sunday morning, I picked her up from the curb, placed her in a box, and brought her home and buried her in my back yard. She'll never again be harmed, and her sweet soul lives on in her survivors.
Sweet Dreams, Pretty Mama, Rest In Peace, All Are Well.
Kay Neumer
Milwaukee, WI
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