Thursday, October 18, 2012


     This is going to be a sort of weird post, even for me. I know what I want to say, but I don't really know how to go about it, so I guess I'll just start off explaining how I got the Kitten... Well, maybe a little more history before that so you can see the full picture.

     On March 6th last year (I actually wrote about this somewhere else so it has the date), an outdoor cat that Mom used to have, had babies in our cabinet. She had miscarried before and we didn't even know she was pregnant, because she didn't gain any weight. She had four of them and seemed to be staying with them, so we were glad.

     The next day, the mom cat wanted to go outside, so we let her out so she could go to the bathroom. But hours passed and she didn't come inside. We called her, we saw her, but she just didn't want to come in. By the time we got to her, we found that she didn't have any milk. Momma checked on the babies and found that two of the four had died.

     There is an emergency vet clinic that stays open all night, but we didn't know where it was. We got a box and some towels, and put the babies in it. Momma is night blind and I didn't even have a permit yet, but we went looking anyways. We jacked up the heat because the kittens were cold and eventually, we found a clinic as they were closing.

     The vet told us that the two babies had a 90% chance of dying that night, unless we could feed them (every 15 minutes for the first night; 30 the next night) and get them warm. He asked if we wanted to just put them down but I said no, I would take care of them. So I did. I stayed up until Momma got up for work. We even named them; Thud (because my other cat fucking threw him because she thought he was a toy and that was the noise he made) and Rambo (because part of his tail was missing and he was a little fighter). I was up the entire night and Wolfy kept me company so I wouldn't fall asleep. Every fifteen minutes, I got them to eat. Every hour or so, I would heat up a sock of rice to warm them up. (We didn't have any bottles or heating pads, so we improvised.)

I'm almost certain that's Rambo. They were twins and the only way to tell them apart was his deformed tail.
Also, I know I keep calling them both "he" but we honestly have no idea what gender they were.
     Momma took them to work and a tenant helped her care for them all day. Thud didn't make it through the day. That night, I took over my shift again and made it until about 3 in the morning. I noticed Rambo was struggling to breath some and I tried to warm him up, I tried to see if he was thirsty. He took his last breath in my hands and I completely lost my shit. I broke down like you wouldn't believe. I was a mess for days.

     Some where in the middle of October of last year, some little kids brought a kitten to our house. They said they found her in the middle of the road, but it's far more likely they found her litter and were able to catch her, then didn't know what to do with them. Everyone knows we take in animals to help them, even if we don't keep them, so they were sent to us.

     At first, Momma told them to just put her by the bowl of cat food outside. Then Momma saw her and that she was so tiny and weak, she couldn't even stand. She took the kitten from the kids and passed her to me. "What do you want to do with her?" Honestly, I wanted to keep her because she was so damn cute, but at the same time, I was terrified. What if I failed her too? I can't tell you how absolutely terrifying that was. But I told Momma to go to Petsmart to get some kitten milk and wet food, since she was about three weeks old.

Look at how frail she used to be.

This was the night I got her.
     That little shit refused to sleep in a box or even sit there from the moment I got her. She cried and cried and cried until I picked her up. She only slept on me, which caused me paranoia in my sleep so that I would wake up every time I moved or she moved so I wouldn't lay on her. The second night, she got down on her own to go to the bathroom and I had a panic attack for the next twenty minutes until I found her. We repeated that process for the next two weeks. Every time she cried to get back to me, I woke up and picked her up. If I wanted to shower or even go to the bathroom, she would follow me and cry the entire time until I picked her up.

     I spent the first week feeding her every hour, day and night. This involved me forcing a syringe into her mouth and making her drink kitten formula (which had to be heated up), until she started doing it on her own. It was a slow process and I was always scared that she might choke on it. But eventually, she started eating the wet food (which involved her throwing her whole face in the can and slurping it up) and gaining weight.

After eating.

While completely passed out on me.

We never could get her face cleaned up.
     I have her trained better than most people have their dogs (or kids) trained. Momma only taught her that apparently, my name is "Mommy" to her. The Kitten learned this. Mom thinks it's funny to go out in public and loudly announce, "Yeah, Rachel has to get back to her baby/daughter." This has earned me many angry looks.

     I didn't get to celebrate Halloween last year because I couldn't leave her alone. Now, I don't really mind. She survived and that's what matters. She still acts a lot like when I first got her, but something has changed. Now, she tries to run outside every chance she gets.

     We have to lock her up in a cage if we even think about opening the door, because she'll run out. I've spent many hours hunting her down to bring her back inside. She's still very little and a damn daredevil, so I will not let her outside. She runs right to the road and we have too many mean kids, animals, and traffic for her to go outside. She is now actually trained to go into the cage for treats but given the chance, she'll go outside.

     That brings us to the whole title of my post.

     In the dream I had last night, I was at my grandparent's house and I brought The Kitten with me. I honestly don't know why. I kept telling them, if they were going to open the door, they had to tell me because I had to hold onto her so she wouldn't get out. Grandpa didn't listen and even though I was sure I had locked The Kitten in my room (or rather, the room I was staying in) she suddenly ran by me and almost got through the fence. Grandpa barely caught her and I jumped awake, before automatically checking to see where The Kitten was and if she was okay.

     A few weeks ago, I had a nightmare where she got out here. Momma and I went racing after her in the middle of the night, but Mom got there first. A car had crashed and when I asked about The Kitten, everyone told me that the driver had hit her on purpose. I was so distraught, I kept telling him to go to Hell and that I wanted to kill him. I literally woke myself up crying. Of course, The Kitten was actually fine, but it was all I could think about.

     Before you think I'm too crazy, she's not the only one who I've had dreams like this about. My dad has been the star of quite a few. In a few, he was dead. In one, the first one, he was a vegetable (not like a carrot; more like laying in a hospital bed with no brain activity) and that woke me up crying. He was still overseas, so I raced to the computer and sent him an email to see if he was okay. He replied within a few hours and he was just fine.

     One of my friends, who will be known as Brainiac because he's too damn smart, has been in a couple of them. I don't remember his very clearly though. All I woke up knowing, is I had a nightmare and that I needed to check on him right away. Pawpaw was in one, maybe two. He may have been in one with Daddy. I don't really remember, but again, I woke up crying. I'm sure there have been others but I don't remember at the moment.

     I don't really know why I wrote this post. I know I'm not the only one who's had dreams like that and I know it's not a really happy, funny post. I guess I just wanted to write it because now The Kitten is a year old and the dream was so fresh on my mind and it's been a while since I really wrote a post that didn't involve (as Brother calls it) me and my crazy antics. Unless this counts as crazy antics. I'll have to ask.


  1. It's not crazy. My wife has dreams like this all the time. Sometimes I'll wake her up because she'll be crying in her sleep.

    Also, that's an adorable cat. My cat was one that I rescued too. Someone tried to set her on fire, and she had some huge trust issues, but now she's great. And, with the exception of a small scar, she looks completely normal.

    1. Oh, that's horrible! I hate dreams like that and I feel bad for anyone who has them.

      Thank you. x3 And I can't believe somebody would try to set fire to a cat! That's terrible! I'm glad she's okay now but omg.