Home is where the heart is

In my old life I had a cat, or rather my youngest was given a kitten, which grew into a typical cat…very independent, which of course got her pregnant from the neighborhood roaming stray cats(by the way strays are a huge problem in Greece).  I build our cat a super birthing box, so that she could have her privacy with her babies later.  The night she gave birth, I spent on my kitchen floor.  The first three she handled all on her own.  Freed them from the membranes and all.  The last two she was too exhausted to help and if I had not been there stretched out on the floor, they probably would have died.  I cleaned them up and placed them near her.  It was a wonderful experience, but not one that I wanted to have repeated(it is rather messy and I am sort of obsessed about cleanliness).  

The kittens were gorgeous and provided lots of entertainment for weeks.  I weighed them and made sure that they were growing properly.  Sadly, one died which left us with 4.  We found good homes for two early on and that left us with the mom and the two that I assisted into the world.  


Whenever I see these photos, I am reminded of my old home.  My kids and I no longer live there and were not able to take them with us.  I took the kids and he kept the cats…



2 thoughts on “Home is where the heart is

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