"L.J" stands for Lance Junior. So okay, this blog post may be about "Littleness," just not the doggie kind.
If you have been reading this blog you know that we lost our most beloved flame-point Siamese a few months back. We then went into a strange altered state of not finding/yet finding a replacement for him.
Well, not him, but you know some kitten energy into the household to take our minds off of how lonely we were without him (even with 5 dogs and 3 other cats).
We had truly given up (at least for now) when the call came. A 4 week old flame-point Siamese kitten in trouble!
You can only imagine how fast we were out the door. Even if it wasn't LJ, we could not in all good conscious in Lance's name a flame point kitten to go untreated.
So we were driving to the not so great part of town and our GPS took us down a dirt alley. Um... Should we go down there? It was getting dark and my Roomie and I are not the bravest of the bunch.
But then out of the shadows stepped a huge flame point Tom cat. He was dirty and scrappy and thin. But oh so beautiful. Since we were within 3 houses, we knew that was Daddy kitty. He disappeared back through a broken down car, but we knew we had just had our first sign that LJ was right around the corner.
When we got there the foster mom totally had her heart in the right place, but did not have the knowledge necessary to care for such sick kittens. There were 5. Honestly LJ was so thin, malnourished, and dehydrated we weren't even sure if he was the kitten for us. But how could we leave him there?
Then there was his runt sister. She was half the size of the other kittens who weren't really all that big to begin with. The foster mother and I spoke for over an hour giving care instructions and general tips.
But at some point both LJ and his little runt sister ended up inside my sweatshirt. I looked at my Roomie. We both knew what that meant!
Of course I rationalized it that with only 3 kittens on her hands the foster mom could give better care to the remaining litter, but the truth was I knew that little runt wouldn't make it another 24 hours without aggressive care.
We spent 3 days getting the kittens back on the bottle. Giving fluids and medications. Grooming. Loving. Biting our nails. Would they make it?
Well, we are happy to say they have! With flying colors. Our little runt is named Gretchen while of course the newest addition to the family is LJ, who happens to be a 'snow ninja,' but that's a whole other blog.
And we are having the time of our life. To see two kittens on death's door bloom back to life (mainly so they can chew on our toes it appears) has brought love and light into the house.
We shall always miss Lance, there is no doubt, but I think our period of deep, sorrowful grieving is over.
After all Lance clearly sent LJ to us. We HAVE to enjoy him!