Super Typhoon rolls past Guam.

Lazy Saturday playing with the kittens, tomorrow, I tell them all goodbye. Next week I am scheduled for exploratory surgery and most likely amputation due to the complications of Charcot-Marie-Tooth. Osteomyelitis has settled in my right foot and leg, with the pain waking me up at night to where I need to take more narcotic analgesic then I am comfortable doing. I am anticipatory grieving my limb, but as a nurse I saw patients of all ages with severe medical issues that led to their demise and I need a swift kick in the ass to get over this pity party because this is nothing compared to the agony I've seen other individuals endure. So, my little kittens, rescued from certain death at the kill shelter, have done wonders for me. Far more than any of the drugs I've been prescribed for my severe depression and suicidal ideation. When I get out of rehab, I want to adopt two of the little girl kittens that I have become so attached to should they not find an excellent home while I am parked in a physical rehab learning to deal with a stumpy leg.

Well, today started rough and early with Tiny being very sick with diarrhea. I jinxed myself by saying we were past that scourge. She woke me in bed with pitiful, breathy mews and a drippy backside. She was so dehydrated that I panicked because she refused to take in any kitten formula. Thank goodness I have syringes of normal saline and scalp needles for my medication, so I warmed a syringe and gave her 6 cc's in her scruff which was immediately absorbed. I held her close and kept her wrapped in a little hand towel and so far, touch wood, we haven't had any more drips. She had some nausea but no vomiting, and poor wittle tyke has just been so worn out.. me too. They're tuxedo kittens are covered in ringworm and I can't bathe them in the miconazole shampoo until they're 8 weeks old, so we've got 4 weeks to go. But tomorrow I'll turn my AC off and give them all baths with conditioning shampoo for kittens and then put cream on every place with ringworm. I can't tell you how attached I am to these pips, but I'm also a realist and know that with my father passing at 64, and my sister at 62, and I'm the last with this weird genetic flaw that it's not a good idea to take on little kittens. I worry about my younger cats and who would take care of them once I meet my other kitties at the bridge. But I've certainly enjoyed taking care of them because it's made me less self-focused and apathetic. I fostered before and the kittens weren't sick and they didn't need bottle feeding. They were older and just so much fun. I really wish people would consider stepping up and offering to foster these sweet animals — whether they be cats or dogs or rabbits or poultry there's even horses that need rescuing — from dying at shelters. All it takes is offering to foster at your local shelter or rescue.

Tired kittens after hours of play and wrestling. No more diarrhea! Hallelujah! But it is time to train them on the wonders of the litter pan like the big kids are using. I separated the two litters, since the little tuxedo kittens were getting picked on. Plus, the tuxes have ringworm spots I am treating. It's always something...

Another day carefully caring for my gang of six. The three black gargoyles all still have diarrhea. We're talking squirts... I comfort, give warm baths, and use @Puffs to blot sore kitten bottoms. Hey, Puffs? Send our rescue a case of tissues? I am going through a box of the full size ones a day just catching these mini rivers of Jordan. It more Baycox, weights three times a day, discarding formula after each feeding. KMR is pricey, more than a can of baby formula. So, I'm trying to make enough for six kittens of various weights, appetites, and supplementing with some pectin paste and calorie malt on tiny gums. Baths are mostly warm soaks, as they just smell sickly. I was always bathing my patients, either a shower or a bed bath. Nobody likes to smell yucky and feel horrible at the same time. So five of the six are sacked out on my bed, one has falled in love with my plush bath rug. No matter how many times I bring him back, he runs back to the rug. Little scamp.

After long hours, lots of prayers, sleepless nights, and countless bottles, antibiotics, concoctions in syringes... By God's grace, we have finally turned corner! The diarrhea afflicting my herd of six kittens has begun to subside and I know the kittens are as much relieved as am I — and my washing machine and dryer. Cookie, one of two females who I nearly lost twice, remains very fragile and this virus has affected her mobility and cognition. Her little sister, the one I call (Tiny) Dancer, is also a little wobbly. I have a cat that has cerebellar hypoplasia who is now 20 years old, who was affected by a severe virus as a kitten. These little girls act much the same, so please keep your fingers crossed and continued prayers that this will abate as the diarrhea has started to go away. Viruses are nasty things in humans as well as tiny animals. Overall, the kittens are very sweet and all wanting affection. The three older solid black kittens are very robust and love to snuggle up and purr in loud little rattles against the nape of my neck. They are fierce little gargoyles who fight over the bottle at feeding time, so I haven't given them names, not being familiar with names of any gargoyles. Each has a different shaped face, so I can tell them apart. The little boy tuxedo is also a fighter for his place in line at feeding time. I've had bottle kittens before but none have been so determined not to release the nipple with flailing claws on all four feet, growling and holding onto the bottle for dear life. I've never seen anything like it. I don't know if it's because they've had this terrible virus or what has happened, Perhaps it is not having a mother. My hands look like I've been out pulling up Russian Thistle without gloves. As you can tell, I'm tired and rambling. Days foregoing sleep or catching little cat naps between setting my alarm for every hour and a half has me beat. I'm drinking both hot tea and swilling strong iced tea like a true Texan. After a quick nap and more laundry, the kittens are getting baths. Here's the boy tuxedo and my tiny runt girl napping on my bed.

Another ER trip for little Cookie tonight. So every kitten is on strict intake and output. Measure how much goes in, and estimate how much goes out. So dehydrated from diarrhea. She is back home now, but not wanting any human contact after two days of being stuck in her backside for temps and test collections, given fluids under her skin, had blood pricks done on tiny paws to make sure she was keeping her glucose up and tested for an array of infections. Everything is negative. So it appears this is viral. Her siblings still have diarrhea as well. My bed is covered with paper shingles except for an area alongside the kennel where most are napping. Cookie and the one I call Tiny are bunked up inside the kennel for now. Every two hours, warm their formula, feed them, soothe hurting tummies, help them potty, let them rest where they're comfortable. This experience has increased my level of respect for all mother cats who take such good care of their kittens. Especially if they have a litter of sick babies.

This morning was bad. A fellow cat friend rushed the tiny one my nurse calls Oreo (and I call her Cookie) to the vet as she crashed. She was floppy, refused everything, and wasn't responding. After an hour, Cookie and my friend are back home, with kitten in guarded condition. They warmed her, gave her fluids in her scruff, and did some tests to see what this bug is that is so bad. I put a heating pad in the kennel under the blanket and am worried sick. Please keep this tiny kitten in your prayers. Yes, I'm already quite attached to the tiny things even with little sleep and doing more laundry than a motel. I hope they figure out what bug these kittens have picked up so we can treat it. The Baycox isn't doing it.

The kitten crew is sick. As my daddy used to say, rest his beloved soul, they're off their feed. So I had Walmart deliver some pumpkin puree baby food, I boiled up some Arborio rice with extra water and drained the starchy water off into a mason jar, and am going to give them just a touch of Karo when I mix up their bottles with the starchy water and pumpkin. They're getting Baycox, I'm weighing them after every feeding and diarrhea episode. They get a bedding change every two hours, so my washer is rolling, rolling, rolling. But I am worried. My home nurse commented on how tired I looked, even though I did get my hair fixed and makeup on. I have IV fluids and butterflies for SQ fluids, but the widdle tykes just need prayers, rest, and to let this shelter bug leave their bellies. Like having a baby with the stomach flu, only I have six little babes and while they cry and want comfort, they just don't talk except in little heartrending mews.🥺 If they want to sleep on my mattress topper? I'm letting them.

Today has been an eventful one filled with impatient kittens who act as if they just made it to chow hall following a bivouac during a Carolina hurricane. But after they MMA me over the bottle, then they just won't really eat. Little tykes are having a bout of coccidia, more than once I've been hit with a code brown doing bladder draining and I'm charging their little beds out every two hours as they're soiled. Walmart must think I've murdered someone since I'm buying so much bleach to be delivered. Thankfully, the rescue supplied me with Baycox for sick tummies and terramycin for gunk in tiny eyes. I was up bathing these tiny babes at 5 am, poor widdles were just sticky, stinky, and felt bad. Got some kitten shampoo coming tomorrow as they need something to get rid of that smell. Now they're all snoozing next to me on top of my pillow mattress pad because they all curled up next to my thigh and went to sleep. I didn't have the heart to dump them back in the kennel while they're feeling so yucky... Please pray for these little kittens, and for us to get some rain this week.

I always thought Steve Martin doing kitten juggling in The Three Amigos was fictional. Not so! It's like I have two different litters, the groceries gang, who suck down the formula from the bottle with gusto and like to explore already — and they already purr! Rattling little purrs that sound like my screens shaking in a metallic vibrato in their windows on the farmhouse before a thunderstorm begins pelting the windows with rain. The tuxedos are smaller, petite, and worrying me to where I am weighing them almost hourly. I look at their tiny eyes. Dry. I gently pinch their scruff. Tenting. I fill a syringe with Karo-sweetened kitten milk replacement and we do the syringe tango. Press gently to one side of the mouth... Two tiny drops, three tiny drops, four... And kitten swaps her little head to the other side as I blot formula off her chin. Repeat. I did have success with the smallest kitten, whose lopsided blaze reminds me of my beloved Jinx, who I lost to lymphoma. She finally latched onto the micro nipple and sucked it in! Tears of joy! She barely weighs 6 oz. I know, I weigh her. A lot. The tux with the blaze that races up her head did finally take a few swallows. I felt the same relief. She's 7 oz. But the tux with the perfect symmetrical blaze, the one my home infusion nurse says looks like an Oreo, is still doing the tango with the syringe nipple. She weighs 8.5 oz, down from 9 oz. I have been cuddling and loving on them all. They adore my Grey velour throw so we're spending some time with them napping after I do a little kitten juggling getting them all fed. This is the one my nurse calls Oreo