So Trouble dumped her kittens on the porch about a week and a half to two weeks ago. Last Saturday, I took it upon myself to try to start nursing them with the kitten milk we had laying around the house. They didn't make it a week. One yesterday, the other today. I can still see his little face when I close my eyes. I knew he was getting weaker, but I didn't know what to do but keep trying. I started crying all over again when I got home and found him still in the box. The least my sister could have done was bag him. I held him in the crook of my arm last night, wrapped up in one of my tank tops, because I figured he was alone now, and he needed to be close to someone warm. I'm pretty sure it's at least partly on me that these kittens died.
What's a little sweet though, is Lady heard me come out of the house crying, and she started barking and growling, like I was a stranger. She didn't stop until I went over there and spoke to her, and gave her a pat on the nose. She looked at me and wagged her tail.
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