Things went well with Karamel and the kittens for the next month and a half, as long as I made sure the Feliway plug in was working. Then, when Ripple was about 1.5 months old, I noticed something was off about him. When you stare at someone everyday, checking them over carefully to make sure they are growing up happy and healthy, you get to know them very well. Their movements, their temperament. One day, I could just tell Ripple was feeling kind of under the weather. This isn't entirely uncommon in kittens, so I waited it out.
Except the next day he didn't feel better, and the day after that, he looked worse. There was nothing overtly wrong with him - he was still eating, still playing, still mostly fine. But I could tell in the way he moved, with a slight hesitation before jumping, less graceful landings, that something was wrong. I fed him Nutrical (a high calorie kitten supplement) when I noticed his appetite waned a little, but the first day he didn't eat breakfast, I took him to the vet.
The vet gave me an appetite stimulant and some special food, with a note that I should continue with the nutrical and force feed him morning and night, just to be sure he was getting enough calories. I did this for five days, watching Ripple like a hawk. He had always been bigger than Butterscotch, and stronger, but over the course of those five days, I watch Butters outpace him in strength and size. Ripple refused to eat, sitting on the table crying and leaning against the wall for support. I was so worried. I've seen fading kitten syndrome during my time at the Toronto Humane Society, where kittens go from healthy to dead in 48 hours. Vets don't really understand why, but some kittens just fail to thrive, and then they're gone. I had to do something, and quickly.
I showed up on the vet's doorstep the next morning without an appointment. This vet is amazing. He's seen me through so many rescue animals, so many late night drop offs of animals is severe distress, weeks of me calling every other day for advice when an animal I'm nursing isn't doing well. He always takes the time to help me out, and I'm so grateful. When he saw the concern on my face, he brought Ripple in to take a look at him.
We talked about it, and I convinced the vet that Ripple needed 24 hour care. I told him I didn't want Ripple to become another Fading Kitten Syndrome statistic. He read the panic in my eyes and kindly agreed to keep him a few days. Over the next six days, the vet fed Ripple every two hours, even staying late and coming into the office in the middle of the night to check on the kitty and give him another feeding. I got updates that he was still alive and doing better daily, and on the sixth day the vet called to tell me to come pick Ripple up.
When I got there, I was floored. Ripple looked like a different animal! He was back to being robust and active, and he had grown a lot as well. He was taller, broader in the shoulders, and I was thrilled. The vet told me that once he started feeling better, Ripple had cried non-stop the entire stay. I apologized to the vet, thanked him profusely, paid the $1300 vet bill, and took my kitten home. And he cried the ENTIRE WAY in the car, all the way down the steps to the basement, and didn't stop until he was reunited with his brother.
After that, things were mostly fine. When Ripple was 4 months old, he got up onto a high shelf and injured his leg jumping down. I was worried it was broken, but it turned out to be just a sprain. Another trip to the vet, an anti-inflammatory shot and meds, a $350 vet bill and three days later, and he was fine. The boys were tearing around the house like crazy, getting bigger every day, and when they hit 6.5 months, I decided it was time to try and get them adopted.
I know that some people think adopting cats out at 4 months is a good idea, but I always worry that the seemingly nice adopters that love your tiny 4 month old kittens are the same people who will abandon your 11 month old cats when they are no longer tiny and cute. If you wait for the kittens to grow up a bit, then the people who love them know what they are getting. I have found this system to work well in the past for adoptions (more on those stories later!).
I worked with a great rescue, and courtesy of a great adoption bio and pictures, I had several inquiries about the kittens within four days. The rescue vetted everyone and sent me a nice family with adult kids who lived at home, where someone was home all the time, every day. It sounded perfect. They came for a meet and greet, and although the kittens seemed a bit apprehensive, the family wanted them, so I packed them into a carrier and sent them on their way. The look of betrayal on Butters' face as they picked him up and walked away with him was heartbreaking, but I tried to tell myself it was for the best for everyone.
Except I had a feeling that I had done something terribly wrong. I've adopted out a lot of animals, both cats and dogs, and never had I had this horrible nausea in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea why I was feeling that way. The family had had cats their whole lives, and they always lived to be 16 or older. The vet reference was glowing. Why did I have such a horribly foreboding feeling?
The call came two days later - the kittens were not making the transition well. They were hiding, peeing on the floor in terror, and refusing to eat or drink. I gave the new adopters tons of tips to try and make them comfortable, and by day four, Butters had taken his first drink. After that, the adopters said they would stick it out and do whatever it took to make them comfortable. "We're not quitters!", he said. I tried to tell him that I *wanted* him to quit, if he thought it was best for the kittens, if they were unhappy and not adapting after a week or so, but he wouldn't listen. I was so worried about my little guys, but there was nothing I could do about it now. They were someone else's.
I didn't hear anything after that, until one full week after the adoption. I spent the intervening time moping and nauseous with worry. The call I got from the new adopter painted a different story than the one he had last told me in which the boys seemed to be starting to settle in. The new story was that Ripple would cry all night long, and Butters had destroyed the basement door trying to escape (which was odd, because the adopter had previously told me he had let the kittens have full run of the house on day three). Apparently Ripple hadn't eaten or drunk anything the entire time he was there, and Butters refused to leave the closet. They had attached somewhat to the family's youngest daughter, who was about 5 years younger than me, and they would follow her around if she was alone in the house. If anyone else came home, they bolted downstairs to hide in the basement again. The new adopters found the whole thing too stressful, and they called to say they'd be there in 20 minutes to return the cats.
Honestly, I was relieved. I had been so worried about them, and now they were coming home.
When he let the kittens out of the carrier, I was shocked at how they looked. Ripple had lost a lot of weight, and he seemed haggard and exhausted. Even Butters was skittish, and after spending some time with him, I was sad to see that the joyful light had gone out of his eyes. He no longer thought that life was amazing. Now he knew that things could go bad and it seemed to be weighing him down emotionally. I felt terrible. Not only that, but their pee smelled strongly of ammonia, meaning they were both very dehydrated.
I gave them time, and love, and let them get used to being back home with me. I stuck to the normal routine, to try and give them stability. It was one week, one sad, long week, before the kittens began to act normally again. I had been worried that they would always be sad and skittish from then on, but a full seven days later and they were both happy and healthy. I vowed I wouldn't put them through that again, so now they are staying with me. I had already decided to keep Karamel, who isn't as friendly with strangers as I had originally thought, and so now the family is back together again and staying. Right now they spend overnight in my basement, but I'm hoping to do some light renovation to my room and move them up with my current two cats over the summer.
So that's my story of how this little family came to stay. :)
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