The Four

It started like this...

Four was more than I expected. You always think- one more can't make that much more of a difference-- and then there's one more, then one more.

As with so many things in life, we never plan on loving or caring. And then when it happens, do we shut the door so there's no risk of loss or hurt?

(left) taking The Four home-
(right) Astro on my lap because his sisters were trying to suckle on him

The Four were siblings barely 4 weeks old. I couldn't possibly have them separated- they had already just lost the only thing they knew and their only lifeline, a warm furry mum. So I said yes, I'd help foster the Four who were found abandoned in a shoe box and left out in the rain.

So I started with the Four- not thinking that it would make much more of a difference from taking care of one. Reality soon woke me, screaming in my face- or actually the Four did- when they were constantly hungry, needing a cuddle, pushed out of their blanket space by another sibling, bullying each other, sharing a litter box that was already used by one of the Four, etc. etc. etc.

Yes, Four made a difference when it came to taking care of them.
This little kindle certainly didn't appreciate the fact that I didn't run a multi-station milk bar. They expressed their impatience with my inferior 2-hands and one bottle facility coupled with no prior experience on the job. But we struggled and we managed.

There was Astro-Boy. The kids had a big cookie clear plastic bottle in their carrier-house which Astro-Boy would creep in to nap to escape from his bullying sisters. Because he spent a lot of time in here, it became his space bubble and we named him Astro-Boy.

Astro-Boy snuggling down

Shelby, (named for her tortoiseshell) was the most polite even at her age. She was the littlest of the lot and instantly charmed me with her manners, which was absolutely absent in the others. She spoke in a refined gentle mew.

Shelby with her bed-head

Hillary & Astro at litter-box training class

Hillary, named after Sir Edmund Hillary- she quickly found her fame as The Climber- scaling me with her sharp claws at every opportunity. It is good to know that at some time in my life I was someone's Everest! We nicknamed her Hilly.

Mulan- the fierce fighter always in the forefront of action and attack. Her war cry was formidable for one so little and even though she was at feet level, you couldn't ignore her conversations with you. We called her Mu-mu for short and she fast became my favourite when her had fought her imaginary battles for the day and was more settled and quiet.

We'd hardly gotten over the first few humps when Astro-Boy and Selby took a dive. We had no way of knowing how long they had been able to feed from their mother before they were separated from her. The early days of feeding from their mother, or absence thereof, would have somewhat sealed a large part of their fate in whatever strengthening of their immune system they could garner. At only five weeks old, facing the world alone was a battleground of unknown proportions.

Astro-Boy: Why don't they look like me?

And fight the battle we did, which meant 3-hourly feeds to keep them hydrated as dehydration leads them to the end very quickly. Spending that much time with them and having them rely on you so totally, you come to know them so well and forge a special bond.

And I'm not even particularly fond of cats- I keep saying. We didn't grow up with cats and Mum used to wrinkle her nose if any homeless scruffy kittens or cats tried to sidle up to us at the wet market when we were kids.

With the little ones so vulnerable, you have a chance to discover the infinity of your heart. Before long, they are nestled in your every breath. When I had to leave them sometimes to grab a meal at the coffee shop nearby, I could still hear their little cries echoing as if they were only nearby. Almost surreal and it feels as if you’re imagining things.

I sadly learnt that 'high mortality rate' meant more than a statistic. I lost the battle with Astro-Boy and Shelby. Why is it that when we do all that we can, we still feel a sense of failure? Where is it that we learn that we have to succeed in everything- if not we’re the Loser we fear to be. I think it mostly stems from the non-realization or non-acceptance of the simple reality that ultimately we could be the world’s greatest achiever but we don’t control the universe.
I let go quietly of my little two.

EEEEKS! What can I say???

Hilly and Mu-mu struggled with worms as their weight and strength plunged. I learnt that for the newborn, it's one of the top killers they face. Thankfully a visit to a very kind and warm vet set them right with deworming. When the worms were expelled, it was had to imagine that the little ones had played unwilling hosts to so many long squiggly ones inside, choking them and feeding off them, practically eating the life out of them.

who let the cats out of the bag?

My two have been with me for 4 weeks now taking turns requiring intensive home care as they struggled with their weak beginnings. Now Hilly has come back as The Climber she has always shown to be. She's full of life and curiosity!

Little Mu-mu, who matured overnight and stopped fighting for everything and became my special delight. She was showing her long-haired beauty and her huge manga eyes were captivating.

Mu-mu's manga eyes

Their health still hangs in some delicate balance unbeknown to me. I had heaved my sighs of relief and thought we'd past that stage. Then I almost lost Hilly and it seemed against all odds at that time but she pulled through. Now she's bursting with unrelentless energy and turns out as a blur in all my attempts at photographing her. Such an indescribable little joy to see her this way.

Hilly: My mum made me pose with this kid