the song is "Just in Time" Tootsieroll Tootsieroll is a bit of a miracle baby. I was working in a construction trailer on-site at a nuclear plant which was built on an artificial island in the Delaware River. When the Army Corps of Engineers was building it, some of the locals decided it was a good place to dump their unwanted cats and kittens, so there was eventually a very large feral population there. Each spring, the power company would come through every two weeks and round up all the feral cats and kittens they could find and euthanize them - cats can get into the reactors and become irradiated, and the power company didn’t want any mutant kitties around. They had done a sweep on Sunday. On Tuesday, I saw this teeny ball of black and white fluff sitting outside a hole in the skirt of the trailer, blinking these bright blue eyes. I tried to catch her, but she was a speedy little thing. On Wednesday, I began putting out dry food for her. On Friday, not knowing any better, I began putting out baby formula for her. As you know, that was the wrong thing to do. I went to work for a couple of hours on Sunday, and as I was leaving I saw her lying on the gravel under the air-conditioner, and I thought she was dead. I went over and picked her up, and to my surprise, her eyes flew open and she bit me! Then she just quit struggling. I was appalled - she’d looked so fat and fluffy, but she was nothing more than skin and bones and fluff. And I noticed a lot of wet stool sticking to her back legs. I went inside and got a copy paper box, put her in that, took her home, and closed her up in one of my bathrooms. Called in the next morning to say I’d be late, stuck the little furball in the car, and went to the vet. Young Calliope and Baby Tootsieroll Tootsieroll weighed just under 8 oz., and the vet said she was probably 5 of 6 weeks old, but was the size of a 2-week old kitten. With her bottom at the base of my palm, her nose only came to my second knuckle. The vet said she’d never seen a kitten that was so emaciated and yet still on its feet, and feisty to boot! No fleas, no ear mites, wormed her just in case. The vet said she wasn’t surprised to find no parasites - parasites like a little meat! And then the vet told me she was a boy - she was too small to see anything, so the vet sexed her by feel. Only problem was, her little bottom was so swollen from the diarrhea, the vet thought she felt something else there! I took her home, started feeding her canned food and KMR, she started eating like a pig and growing like a weed. Ten days later she weighed in at 1 ¾ lbs. She’s always been my feisty, take-no-prisoners kitty, but she’s a big mushball, too. She’s 7 now, and still has to be snug up against my leg when I retire for the evening. She’s a Maine Coon cat, and has the most endearing voice I’ve ever heard. She squeaks, chirps, and trills, and has to sit on the sink to watch me shower through the clear shower curtain. My little Squeaky Voyeur.
Tootsieroll is a bit of a miracle baby. I was working in a construction trailer on-site at a nuclear plant which was built on an artificial island in the Delaware River. When the Army Corps of Engineers was building it, some of the locals decided it was a good place to dump their unwanted cats and kittens, so there was eventually a very large feral population there. Each spring, the power company would come through every two weeks and round up all the feral cats and kittens they could find and euthanize them - cats can get into the reactors and become irradiated, and the power company didn’t want any mutant kitties around. They had done a sweep on Sunday. On Tuesday, I saw this teeny ball of black and white fluff sitting outside a hole in the skirt of the trailer, blinking these bright blue eyes.
I tried to catch her, but she was a speedy little thing. On Wednesday, I began putting out dry food for her. On Friday, not knowing any better, I began putting out baby formula for her. As you know, that was the wrong thing to do. I went to work for a couple of hours on Sunday, and as I was leaving I saw her lying on the gravel under the air-conditioner, and I thought she was dead. I went over and picked her up, and to my surprise, her eyes flew open and she bit me! Then she just quit struggling. I was appalled - she’d looked so fat and fluffy, but she was nothing more than skin and bones and fluff. And I noticed a lot of wet stool sticking to her back legs. I went inside and got a copy paper box, put her in that, took her home, and closed her up in one of my bathrooms. Called in the next morning to say I’d be late, stuck the little furball in the car, and went to the vet.
Tootsieroll weighed just under 8 oz., and the vet said she was probably 5 of 6 weeks old, but was the size of a 2-week old kitten. With her bottom at the base of my palm, her nose only came to my second knuckle. The vet said she’d never seen a kitten that was so emaciated and yet still on its feet, and feisty to boot! No fleas, no ear mites, wormed her just in case. The vet said she wasn’t surprised to find no parasites - parasites like a little meat! And then the vet told me she was a boy - she was too small to see anything, so the vet sexed her by feel. Only problem was, her little bottom was so swollen from the diarrhea, the vet thought she felt something else there!
I took her home, started feeding her canned food and KMR, she started eating like a pig and growing like a weed. Ten days later she weighed in at 1 ¾ lbs. She’s always been my feisty, take-no-prisoners kitty, but she’s a big mushball, too. She’s 7 now, and still has to be snug up against my leg when I retire for the evening. She’s a Maine Coon cat, and has the most endearing voice I’ve ever heard. She squeaks, chirps, and trills, and has to sit on the sink to watch me shower through the clear shower curtain. My little Squeaky Voyeur.
