Peak kitten cuteness? Between six and ten weeks. They are playful and scamper about, they are now going outside, watched over by their mother and Hipek (who feels that he can play a useful role in his adopted colony). The kittens still breastfeed, though less regularly and have started going over to solids, in particular the paté type. Fresh water is always on hand as is 0.5% ultra-low-fat milk.
Dorian, the stumpy-tailed wobbly kitten, and his twin Wiktor (who is just slightly wobbly and has a normal tail), are fine, accepted by their mother and their siblings as part of the group. Dorian will not let his disability hold him back. Is he aware of his difficulties in coordinating the movement of his legs? How does his cerebellar hypoplasia affect his experience of life? Am I just imagining it, projecting it onto him, but is there a stoic, almost cheerful acceptance in his feline mind? He can climb up into the cat tower without difficulty. He plays, play-fights, grooms and chases the others without any changes to the rules. I am, however, wary of these Dorian and Wiktor going astray outdoors, especially when I catch sight of a buzzard overhead. Below: Dorian play-fighting with Mars.
The other three are developing ideally. Mars and Kwintesencja, tabby twins, are distinguishable only by sex and tail length (Mars is a stumpy-tailed male, Kwincia is a normal-tailed female); both are explorers eager to push the envelope of how far they can roam. Memphis (Fisia) is a female tabby, and displays white fur on her throat, neck and undersides; she has a mid-length tail with just one kinked bone.
Below: the five tend to all sleep together. Céleste no longer fits with them all present, so breastfeeding is done on the floor. We see here Kwincia (left) and Wiktor, the rest are all uh, down there somewhere.
Below: time for some fresh air – Mars (centre) leads Dorian (left) and Wiktor (right) towards the open kitchen door. Notice the focused expression on Mars's face.
Meanwhile, mum Céleste has been losing fur at an alarming rate. Her face is familiar but her head seems to have shrunk (below).
This hair loss is both hormonal and seasonal. During pregnancy, elevated hormone levels hold hair follicles in an extended growth phase. Around six to eight weeks after giving birth, those hormone levels plummet. At the same time, peak milk production has placed immense metabolic demand on her body, which is as thin as a weasel. This sudden shift forces a large percentage of her hair follicles into a resting phase simultaneously ('telogen effluvium'). The result is a dramatic, synchronised blow-out of her undercoat and long guard-hairs, making her head and face look noticeably smaller. All this was going on during last month's heatwave. Long-haired cats naturally drop their dense thermal undercoat during summer. In temperatures over 25°C, dropping fur is Céleste's body's natural defense against heat-stroke while trapped under a pile of warm kittens.
Lying on her side for hours on end creates warmth, humidity and constant mechanical friction against Céleste's flanks. Combined with loose shedding fur that hasn't been brushed out (frequent brushing was put on hold during the breastfeeding weeks), dense dreadlocks quickly formed. This mass of matted hair had to be removed, gently, with minimal use of scissors, aided by Céleste herself who'd be gnawing on the base of the locks. The whole lot finally came off as one large piece, looking somewhat like a false beard.
The internet assures me that Céleste's fur – the undercoat and long guard-hairs – will all have grown back by the winter. The internet also warns me to arrange an appointment with the vet to sterilise Céleste as soon as possible. Sterilisation will, sadly, be the fate of Fisia and Kwincia; the prospect of 22 cats by the end of 2027 is too much. I'm already close to the point where my monthly cat-food bill is approaching the amount I spend on feeding myself. Céleste is eating seven or eight times a day; she is stick-thin after two months of nursing the little ones, so whenever she calls for food she gets food.
The two female kittens are destined not to experience the joy and pain of motherhood... unless someone wants to take them as whole females with the intention of letting them breed (an outdoor lifestyle has to be provided for them). The joy of kittens is extraordinarily special.
And let's not forget grandmother, Wenusia. She comes by in the morning for breakfast and pops in a few times during the day. Once fed, she will put her paw on the side of my leg, which means "lift me up and stroke me, don't forget that once I was your one and only cat." I do so, she wanders off, contented, I hope.
This time four years ago:
Automatic writing: to where (and when) will the muse take me?
This time five years ago:
New phone, new laptop, Part II
This time six years ago:
Two images from my early childhood
This time seven years ago:
How PKP PLK's planners should treat pedestrian station users.
This time eight years ago:
Foreign exchange: don't get diddled!
[for the saps who pay £250 for €200 at the airport]
This time ten years ago:
Defining my Sublime Aesthetic
Porth Ceiriad on the Llyn Peninsula
This time 14 years ago:
Jeziorki sunset, late July
This time 15 years ago:
Jeziorki sunset, after the storm
This time 18 years ago:
Rural suburbias: the ideal place to live?
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