Around the time the little girl in the top photo
was beginning to become aware of her world, and the lady with the flowers on the front of her dress was a fairly new mother, my first miraculous rescue took place. We were up in The NYS Catskills in a summer bungalow, when I heard a mental meowing for help. I scrambled outside and followed the mental sound until a dying kitten was found. She was severely injured and my heart told me that I must bring her back to the bungalow for Mommy Irene to fix. MOM had been trained as a lifeguard to do some emergency medical stuff.
The entire time I assisted my mother is operating to remove a blood-sucker-leech from the baby cat's shoulder, the kitten didn't make a sound or move. It was as if she knew we were desperately trying to save her.
Nor did I find it ugly or sickening to help MOM.
We had powdered sulfer and put it in the deep wound... sewed her with white sterilized cotton, and then bandaged the kitten up. With an eye-dropper, we gently fed little amounts of home-made chicken soup, mashed veggies, and some diluted milk. She was almost starved to death.
As a baby myself, I decided to call her BIGGIE.
The name made sense to me in those days. Biggie lived,
and my soul adored her. She had a number of litters. Although I do not own a picture of Biggie, it is believed that she is in the group of cats eating on our back porch. The grey kitten in that photo facing us is named Fluffy-Powder-Puff.
That tuxedo boy is Smokey who disappeared at around six months of age. He was a soul-mate I have never forgotten up to this moment.
In that far off time of my life, cats were not given indoor litter boxes or spayed/neutered. I always prayed that someone saw how beautiful Smokey was and took him in. If he got run over by a car, it is just too sad to think of. MOM told me I sobbed for two long weeks on my hands and knees at the door screaming for Smokey to come home. It was a severe trauma in my young, naive child-life.
I love you Smokey. I love you Biggie. To be continued.........