A friend of my cousin has a hobby that —sadly enough - others share too. She loves adopting kittens to fill her Instagram with their pictures. But after a year — when the kittens stop being adorable and fun — she dumps them at the vet’s doors (to get food and shelter while waiting for others to adopt them, she’s not THAT heartless you know!). Ignoring the inhumane angle of the story, I always find it difficult to see the appealing side of kittens. Even when my friends announce happily that they’re thinking of adopting one, I advise them against it and ask them sincerely if they’re ready to handle a feline child along with their own human ones.
Forget about the cute videos that you watch on YouTube; kittens are a full-time job. Like human children: they’re attention seekers, clingy and get sick quite often. Actually, maintaining them alive is hard as anything could kill them from simple dehydration to stupid accidents (I have a kitten that fell in the toilet while trying to escape my room two days back!).
Every spring, the visiting unspayed cats get pregnant and three months later come with their litter (if they survive that is). Some mother cats are too young to know how to take care of their kittens, so they die from hunger or by being devoured by adult cats who’d consider them a threat to their resources. I remember having a few of those that I call “teenage pregnancies” where I’d chase the mother around — with her kittens gathered on a cushion — to feed them.
Sometimes I’d create a safe place for her to consider the idea of hiding them instead of being attacked by other cats. After a try or two, some mothers respond well and their instincts kicks in (and my job as a royal nanny stops). But when they don’t, I’d know that I won’t be seeing the kittens ever again. Nature is harsh. Last year, I adopted two one-week-old kittens that my friend found close to her house. The mother had vanished for two days, so we assumed that she was dead. I took them in and what a handful lot they were!
From day one, I was supposed to feed them every two hours and wipe their backside for them to excrete. The best part was making sure that they were not constipated because that would kill them. By the second day, I was exhausted and sleep-deprived. I remember hearing the song “Yesterday” play in my head while thinking that my single carefree days are over! No more outing with friends, I’m home-bound for the next three weeks till they complete a month! I was adapting well by the second week, I managed to meet up with friends but made sure to be back home on feeding time (like any responsible mother!).
The funny thing was getting attached to those kittens that I called Masa and Rigash. I was overprotective of them while being around other cats.
Once a male cat hissed and slapped them. I defended them by hissing back and tapping him on the head warningly. I was so convincing — minus canine and claws — that he kept his distance ever since! When they were five weeks old — and after much hesitation — I put them out in the garden and constantly checked on them from the window, just to make sure that they were okay. Unfortunately, Masa died of an accident and Rigash disappeared before they complete six months — which was a true heartache. Next week, I’ll continue the kitty talk about this summer’s litter. Stay tuned!
Rasha al Raisi is a certified skills trainer and the author of:
The World According to Bahja. rashabooks@yahoo.com)
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