Alex (for Alexander The Great) was found late one rainy night at the nearby park by a rescuer friend. She texted me the same night and I told her to bring the tiny kitten over.
All I saw was this tiny, scrawny kitten full of fleas, wet due to the recent rain, eyes that wont open properly, severely dehydrated and looking so pitiful. He looked as if he wont even survive the night.
I nursed him back to health as best as I could. George thought that he looked much better after a few days at home. I took him to the vet and was declared healthy although he obviously needed to increase the weight (Alex was 260 gram) and plenty of TLCs.
We were excited at the prospect of bringing him back to what a kitten should look like. Alex started to feed from the bottle on Day 3 and increased his milk intake by the day.
But, on Day 6, I heard his meow changed from loud shrilling sound to a hoarse. A sign that I have heard way too many times – a sign of an ailing cat and in this case, a kitten. Ailing that death may be near. I didnt want to think about it. I wanted him to survive.
Day 7 to the day Alex was rescued. Looked like God gave him to us only ever so briefly but I am glad he was comfortable at home with us instead of having fight for his life in the bushes in the park. Maybe to die in the same park too and without anyone knew.
Alex crossed the Rainbow Bridge late that evening. Thank you, Shannon for bringing Alex to our home that night.
Alex is buried in our garden next to Furby.
Alex on his Day 2 with us.
Alex on his Day 4 with us. Looking better. He wanted more milk 😉
The curious Jane.
Cuddling time after his bottle feed.
Rest in peace, Little Alexander…..