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Anastasia, My First Child |
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Many people tend to be good at differentiating between who and what are and who and what are not their children. For some people, the definition of their own offspring is very narrow, beyond the idea of copulation and childbirth between themselves and another of their choice. But to me, a child is any creature, human or otherwise, that you take into your heart and provide all the nurturing needs, emotional, mental, and psychological needs, physical needs, and shelter that such a little one needs. That said, my first child is my dearest Anastasia; a tabby cat born around the 8th of August of 2006.
Anastasia was abandoned by her mother, a feral cat that I provide food for as well as the other neighborhood cats, and shelter when dangerous storm conditions arise. Feral cats will eat, suffocate, abandon, or attack their own litter if they feel that the kitten is too weak to survive or if her litter was too big and she can't provide for all of them. That said, Anastasia was one of the ones that she nurtured at first but later forsake.
Anastasia couldn't have been more than 3weeks old at the time because she was still very small and was having problems seeing when I first saw her. She was too weak to move when I came by, which would have been a normal reaction for any kitten born to a feral mother, her eyes were MUCH too big for her head, and she looked as though she had been in pain to move because her body was so tiny, she sat in an "open" position, and barely had the strength to call for her mother. Her mother, who I'd named Palomino (although her markings look more like a Pinto), refused to feed her, groom her, or even show affection for her. It became painfully clear that Anastasia was on the verge of starving to death or freezing (because kittens need their mothers to provide a heat source until they're about a month old or so). Palomino would turn on her, attack her, and frighten even me at times with her viciousness. I had only seen it twice, but it was enough to make me alert and know that I needed Anastasia just as much as she needed me.
When I finally gathered up the courage to take the scared kitten into the house, she was so small that she fit on the four fingers of my palm when put together and she weighed less than a pound. I had to go to work, so I put her in the bathtub with lots of warm towels and a litter box (to start introducing the two) before I left. I returned home and had to bottle-feed her, a very messy ordeal, evaporated milk, which I was weary of feeding to her. I later purchased milk substitute and went through the warming of bottles, midnight feedings, changing of bedding, and the giving up on making her sleep in her own cat bed. I was afraid I'd roll on her because I'm a wild sleeper, but I was subconsciously aware of her presence, so I never moved in a way that would hurt her. My warmth was good for her though so it worked out for the better.
I took her to the vet to find out that she was (as I had expected) in a state of malnutrition and needed extra attention. She also needed de-worming medicine and medicine to give her strength. She had also contracted an upper respiratory infection, for which the treatment was quite expensive, making her vet fees easily over $600. On my schedule of part-time at Target, I was definitely pressed for money and wits as to whether the little one I had invested so much in would even make it another month. Over time, she progressed and grew. Over time, I learned to understand the true meaning of the word "mom."
Anastasia Kamala Lisane (soon to be Lisane-Ahmed once I get married), now size of my forearm, rarely meows but indulges in a series of coos that sound like orcas or raccoons. My beloved kitten, my only child, she is my first child and every day I see her, I think of her as just the such; my kin, my blood, keeper of my eternal love.
 Xits the Tragedy · Thu Jan 18, 2007 @ 01:39am · 0 Comments |
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