Notes on Feline Motherhood

The kittens will soon be finished their second day of life and appear to be flourishing. (It’s going to be interesting with two of them having a different birthday than the other three.) So far as I can tell, they are receiving enough nourishment; I’m pretty sure their mother is. Rhapsody is eating a great deal of soft-food - a 5.5 ounce tin finished this morning alone - but that’s all for the good.

She is a conscientious mother. Even though she may be hungry when I bring her food - I don’t wait until meal-times for her; I feed her throughout the day, and make sure she has a full tummy going to bed - she will not eat if the kittens are nursing, or are snuggling close to her. In those cases, I set the food aside or hold the bowl for her while she empties it. I suspect this is Rho’s second litter, considering the number involved and her care and knowledge.

She does take a break now and then from the babies, though. I have noticed that she does this only when the kittens are sleeping, usually in a pile. Then she feels she can get away on her own for a bit of a rest. Though I am keeping the library warm for the newcomers, it may be too heated for Rho, and periodically she might appreciate the cool floor.

The new mother didn’t use the litter-box the day following the births. This, I was told, was not a worry. Rhapsody has now used the boxes for both kinds of deposits. At first, I moved one box to within sight of the birthing bed, for Rho’s ease. In response, she used the other one, which is where the boxes have always been. Routine beats convenience in this case.

Something else I’ve noticed is Rhapsody’s reaction to other cats at this time. I am of course keeping the other beasts out of the library, but when I opened the door to leave yesterday, Imogen was at the threshold, with Moxy behind her. Imo hurried in before I could stop her. She’d done that several times before and pregnant Rho, though she may not have liked having her safe-room invaded, didn’t do much about it. Now, though, the kittens are outside, not inside. Rhapsody attacked Imogen fiercely. There was screaming and yowling; fur - black only - flew. Imo ran back out the door when she had the chance. Moxy had disappeared; I found him later at the top of the sitting room cat-tree. Fortunately, though Rho has sharp claws - I haven’t been able to cut them recently - Miss Silky suffered no injury. She had been warned.

Kim, from Musings on a Small Life, asked if I had a means of containing the kittens when they start their explorations in a few weeks. For the time being, the swimming pool / birthing bed will keep them imprisoned. Readers can see its high sides in one of the photographs in this entry. Later, when the inevitable escapes occur, they will be kept within the library. I will bring back the cat-tree and provide the youngsters with plenty of lower diversions for their stimulation. No other cat will be introduced to the kittens for at least a couple of months.

Lastly, I am already beginning to handle the babies, to accustom them to human touch. They are very fragile, despite the fact that in the general piling and climbing amongst themselves their heads are twisted backward, limbs turned wrong way about and bodies look like corkscrews. For myself, I think they feel like Baggies filled with tiny bones. I am very gentle. When I pick one up, Rhapsody meows at me; not in anger or fear, but casually, as if to say, “Careful now. They are precious. Don’t drop them. You’ve done this before, right?”

I’ll be careful.