Holly Webb - The Homeless Kitten

“Dad thinks she might have been run over,” Lily said, gazing down at the kittens.

Amy nodded. “It’s possible, I’m afraid. Or she may just not have been able to feed them. Either way, I think we have to assume she’s not coming back.”

She opened the travel box and gently reached in to pick up one of the tabby kittens. Hugo whined and Amy laughed. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you? Are you taking over from their mum, Hugo?”

She put the kitten gently into the box and Hugo nosed at the cardboard flaps, clearly making sure that the kitten was all right. “We wouldn’t usually put foster kittens with a family who had a dog but this is a bit of an emergency. Now, I’ll come back to the house with you, if that’s OK, and help you set up a safe pen to keep them in.”

Amy picked up the other tabby kitten and Lily watched anxiously as the white kitten gave a feeble mew. The kitten looked so little, left all on his own. “Can I pick this one up?” Lily whispered. He was hardly moving.

“Sure.”

Lily picked up the tiny kitten – he wasn’t much bigger than her cupped hands – and carefully moved him over to the box. He squirmed around and gave another squeaky breath of a mew but then he cuddled up next to the two tabby kittens again, snuggling against the warmth of the hot-water bottle.

Lily looked up at Dad with shining eyes. “Let’s take them home.”

Amy came back to the house to help settle the kittens in. She brought in a big box of equipment from her car – special kitten formula milk and kitten bottles and a litter tray. She explained that the kittens would need feeding about every four hours. “It’s a lot of work,” she said, looking round at them all. “Are you really sure you can manage?”

Mum was reading the instruction sheets, looking rather anxious. “Oh my goodness, I hadn’t even thought about sterilizing,” she murmured. “But I suppose it’s just like feeding a baby. Have we still got the old sterilizer in the loft?”

Dad grinned. “Yes. Now aren’t you grateful that I never sorted all that stuff out to go to the charity shop? I’ll go and get it. We need to give them a feed as soon as possible, don’t we?”

“Yes, that would be great.” Amy looked pleased. “Having a sterilizer will definitely make things easier. Oh!” Amy turned round from the table. Hugo had nudged open the kitchen door and marched in, looking determined.

“Sorry, I’ll take him out again.” Mum shook her head. “No, Hugo. You need to stay away from the kittens. It’s going to be tricky keeping him out, he’s used to having his basket and his food bowls in here.”

“Wait a minute,” Dad murmured. “Look at him. He’s not at all bothered that they’re in his kitchen. Even though we’ve moved his basket away from the radiator and put the box there instead.”

Amy nodded. “I think you’re right. And I was going to say that I’d try and get hold of a special heating pad for you, to keep the kittens warm but I’m not sure you’re going to need it.”

The kittens were still in their cardboard box, curled up on the hot-water bottle but now Hugo lay down and curled himself around it, so that they had his warmth, too. The kittens were already pressing up against the side of the box next to him. Even though they were so tiny, their instincts were telling them to warm up.

“Hugo really loves them.” Lily smiled. She’d never have expected that Hugo would make a brilliant kitten nurse.

“Right,” Amy continued. “I’ll show you how to mix the milk powder and feed the kittens. And then – well, for another week or so, until they’re old enough to do it themselves, I’m afraid you’re going to have to help them wee and poo afterwards.”

“That’s disgusting!” Carly said, making a horrified face.

Amy laughed. “I know it sounds weird. But mother cats lick their kittens after they’ve fed them and that tells their bodies to wee or poo, you see. When you’re hand-rearing kittens, you have to do everything their mum does. But with cotton wool, dampened with warm boiled water,” she added hurriedly.

“Thank goodness for that,” Dad murmured.

The white kitten woke up and looked around the dark room. He still couldn’t see or smell his mother but at least he was properly warm. He remembered being fed, too, but now he was feeling hungry again. He staggered up on to his paws and mewed, calling for his mother. But instead of a fluffy tabby face, a large white nose came over the side of his box and nuzzled at him.

The kitten sniffed and then sneezed and looked up at the huge creature in confusion. This was most definitely not his mother. Whoever it was felt warm, though, and comforting. The kitten mewed again, asking the big dog for food, and felt his two tabby sisters stirring beside him. They started to call for milk, too.

“Hello, Hugo… Did they wake you up?” a deep voice said, laughing a little.

The kitten moved his head towards the sound and then let out a tiny squeak. Hugo had leaned down again, and picked him up – just the way his mother did – in his jaws. The kitten wriggled as he was lifted from the box but then he found himself between the dog’s great paws, cosily nestled against the thick fur of his chest. Forgetting to be hungry for a moment, the kitten snuggled closer and drifted back to sleep.

Upstairs, Lily lay half awake. She’d been dreaming about the kittens and now she couldn’t tell whether she was asleep or not. She could hear mewing – pitiful little squeaks – and low voices coming from downstairs. Of course! The night-time feed!

Mum and Dad had worked out that it would be best to feed the kittens at about eleven o’clock before they went to bed, then at three in the morning and then again when they all got up. Dad had said it would only be for a week or so, until the kittens were a bit older and could go for more than four hours without food.

Lily had begged to be allowed to help but Mum and Dad had said it was far too late for her and Carly, even though it was the holidays.

But if they were feeding the kittens, why could she hear mewing? The little squeaks sounded desperate. Lily sat up worriedly. She had to make sure they were OK – especially the fluffy white one. He had felt so tiny in her hands when she lifted him into the box, as though there was hardly anything of him under all that fur.

Lily got out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and fumbled sleepily for her slippers. Then she crept down the stairs.

She tiptoed along the hallway and peered into the kitchen. Her mum and dad were sitting at the table in their pyjamas, each with a tabby kitten in their laps. The kittens were busily sucking from the bottles.