Rosie

What is it with me and the unloveables, underdogs and undesirables? As far back as I can remember, I've always sought out, nursed and loved those things others have given up on. By no means am I touting any kind of horn. This trait isn't necessarily a favorable one, and more often than not it's left me heartbroken or disappointed. It could be an injured mourning dove, baby chicks, wayward friends, stranded turtles, brooding boyfriends, or the Red Sox. And so it continues with Rosie.

Last Saturday, Larry and I were invited to a wine-tasting event. Linda and the girls were going to order pizza and play at the park. All was going well until the main course and my phone rang. I answered and I hear "Please, please, please don't get mad. We found a kitten in the middle of the road and we had to save it." Of course they did, they wouldn't be my daughters if they didn't. "Can we keep it? Please, please, please?!" I thought I'd have a better chance of fighting this battle when we got home, so I told them to put the thing in the "dog room", which is a strange outdoor room in the middle of our house. It's where we keep our grill. When we got home, there was no kitten in the dogroom. I went upstairs and curled up in a towel on Sydney's pillow was the smallest kitten I've ever seen and I've seen a lot of kittens. Larry and I at one point had around 50 cats living outside, inside, under and on top of our little mill house. We nicknamed it Ernest Hemingway's second home, all because we just had to feed that one stray FEMALE cat. We also discovered that the kitten was actually hanging out in the big trash area in the neighborhood and they "saved" it. Sarah has become quite adapt at dump-picking, a trait no doubt passed down from her great grandfather. Our basement is slowly filling up with discarded China "treasures".

This little thing was pitiful-looking, scrawny, stinky and undeniably destined to be a part of the family. The next day we took her to the local vet. The girls had named it Rosie, not knowing whether it was a girl or a boy. She was, in fact, aptly named. The vet didn't give us much hope as to her survival. He said she had internal "problems" and would require bottle feedings and "fluid discharge assistance" until she was old enough to fend for herself. Anyone ever assist with fluid discharge? Me neither or at least not beyond an enema. Well, now I can say I have...lucky me.

Honestly, I thought these days were behind me when I had my tubes tied. For the past week I've been bottle feeding Rosie, massaging her abdomen to make her pee, bathing her, getting peed on, and letting her sleep on my neck. Did I mention the assistance with bodily fluid? Kitty poo is not fun, even when it's washing down the shower drain as we're showering together. We did have a scarey moment when she started choking. For a brief second I wondered if I was going to have to administer mouth to kitty mouth CPR. The first couple of days were pretty touch and go as she wasn't drinking much, but by mid week, we'd kind of gotten into a little routine. She'd let me know if I deviated from it by tapping me on the cheek with her paw around 2:00am. When I deviated too much she peed on me. I think I've learned her pee cues, still trying to gauge the others. She's way too small to get in and out of a litter box, so this week my goal is to find some kind of temporary alternative to my shoulder.

Rosie is a fighter, which isn't really a suprise considering her mother is one of the neighborhood's feral cats. She's chewed the nipple off the end of the bottle to make the milk come out faster. My hands are quite scratched up as I try to teach her to "play nice". This morning she ate some food, high dollar solid-white albacore tuna. She took her medicine with very little resistance, but then left me a nice present on the floor as a thank you. I got her back by giving her a nice jacuzzi bath in the sink. I'll make a princess out of this pauper if it kills me.

We have to go back to the vet in a couple of weeks, and we'll find out then hopefull, the extent of her internal issues. I will never claim to be a cat-lover, but I must say, Rosie is definitely one of my greatest underdog challenges yet, and everyone knows how much I love those underdogs.