A Little Unexpected Maternity Ward
Posted on
A Little Unexpected Maternity Ward
A few months ago, a very young cat started appearing around us. She was friendly, pretty, and so young that we assumed she must be someone’s new pet. She would pop into the garden nervously, then disappear again.
After a few weeks, she came back looking rather different. This time she was very pregnant, very hungry, and her long fur had started to mat. She was friendly, but not completely trusting, so we slowly won her over with food and patience. We wanted to gently check her body condition, because she looked so skinny under all that fur, and we also needed to check for a microchip, as suggested by our local animal welfare team.
There was no chip, which is now the law here in the UK. There was also no response to our local found-cat posters, either on lampposts or on social media, and no charity had a report of a missing cat fitting her description.
Our local rescue centre didn’t have space to take her in, so they asked if we could keep her safe indoors. That is how we suddenly found ourselves looking after a very pregnant young cat.
We have our own cats, Lila and Elvis, and suddenly we were trying to work out how to keep everyone safe, separate, calm, and not too offended. Elvis especially knew something was going on and kept looking at us as if we were hiding an entire second cat family in the lounge. Which, to be fair, we were.
But Mumma cat was heavily pregnant, hungry, and clearly looking for somewhere safe to nest. We just couldn't say “Sorry love, maternity services are closed", so in she came and settled surprisingly well. My partner called her Cleo, after a little black cat in a kids’ TV show from the early 90s (I think!), but to me, she’s just Mumma.
So our lounge has became a temporary kitten ward.
This all happened at the end of May. Mumma purred, kneaded blankets, literally ate like a tiny horse, and entrenched herself. She wanted company, reassurance, food, and then a bit more food just to be sure. She is such a lovely little thing, and it was impossible not to care about her and get attached.
When the time came, she gave birth to four beautiful kittens, all safe and healthy. It was magical and she put full trust in me, which melted my heart. I had never helped a cat through birth before, so that was a lovely little experience, ensuring she was fed, watered and comfortable so she could do her thing. During the first night she was in shock, exhaused and despairing as these blind gremlin-like things climbed all over her whilst trying to find a nipple, but she let me look after them for a while whilst she had a rest. Once she recovered Mumma was simply amazing for such a young cat: calm, gentle, instinctive, and completely devoted to her babies.
Then along came the red alert heatwave, because apparently ordinary cat drama was not enough. We had to keep Mumma comfortable, keep our own cats separate, and stop everyone from melting. It required fan logistics and us mere humans melting in the corner. A little shout-out to Meaco.com here, because their fans were brilliant and they got them to us quickly, which made a genuinely stressful week a lot more comfortable. They are back in use now as the temperature has ramped back up.
The kittens are now about six weeks old and thriving. They are running, jumping, climbing, launching themselves at anything that moves, and playfighting like tiny pro wrestlers. They hurl themselves at each other, roll around dramatically, then pop back up as if nothing happened. It is adorable, ridiculous, and when they come out of their pen, like having four tiny chaos machines loose in the lounge.
Mumma is doing well, although she shockingly started to come back into season while still breastfeeding. Mother Nature can be cruelly efficient. She is currently part devoted mother, part man-hunting menace, and occasionally a terrible parent because her raging heat hormones have completely taken over. One minute she is washing a kitten lovingly, the next she pushing them aside to spend the night scratching at doors and howling like she’s discovered ABBA and decided her favourite song is Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).
It has really brought home how vulnerable young unneutered cats can be. Mumma was barely more than a kitten herself, around 4-5 months old according to the vet’s estimate. I am just glad we have been able to help. We don’t know where she came from, but she looks exactly like our boy Elvis, who was around ten weeks old when he was found hiding in my car engine for warmth, covered in fleas and infested with worms. The cycle seems to continue, but not for Mumma, as she is being spayed next week.
For us, it has been an intense but beautiful few weeks.
Watching Mumma go from a hungry, matted, heavily pregnant little cat to a safe, loved, well-fed mum, with four no-longer-tiny, thriving, jumping kittens, has been one of the highlights of my life. We are going to see how she is after her spay, and see if she fancies moving in permenantly. Let's see.
|
|
