“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.
“Lily! You should be asleep!” Dad sighed.
“I could hear mewing, it woke me up. What’s wrong?”
“It’s a bit tricky feeding more than one at once – the white kitten was asleep, so we thought we’d leave him till last but now he’s woken up and he’s not happy about waiting,” Mum explained. “I expect he can smell the milk.”
Lily was just about to crouch down and peer into the box when Hugo gave a mournful “Arrrooo!” and she realized that he had the kitten between his paws.
“Oh, Hugo’s looking after him!”
“He lifted the kitten out of the box in his mouth,” Dad told her. “I was a bit worried. But then I think mother cats do the same thing.”
“Is all that mewing bothering you, Hugo?” Lily asked. Then she turned back to look at Mum and Dad. “Shall I feed him? Since I’m awake anyway? We’ve got another bottle and Hugo’s getting upset, you can tell. He doesn’t like Stanley crying like that.”
“Stanley?” Mum smiled at her. “Since when is he called Stanley?”
Lily went pink. “I just think he looks like a Stanley. It’s such a cute name.”
“It is cute,” Mum agreed, passing Lily a bottle. “But just remember we’re not going to have them for long, Lily. Only until the shelter can find a foster home.”
“I know.” Lily gently scooped up the white kitten and carried him over to the table. Hugo followed her, resting his muzzle on her lap so he could watch what she was doing. Stanley seemed to have learned exactly what to do with the bottle from his two previous feeds – he practically jumped at it, sucking greedily at the milk with funny little slurping noises.
“Wow, you really were hungry,” Lily murmured. “Mum, look, I think I can actually see his tummy getting bigger!”
Her mum laughed. “They’re really guzzling it down, aren’t they. Oh, Lily, listen!”
“I can feel it…” Lily whispered back. Stanley was purring.
“Which one’s your favourite?” Mara leaned over the kitten pen, admiring the three kittens. Lily had emailed her best friend to tell her about their amazing discovery, and Mara had been desperate to come and see the kittens as soon as she’d got back from her holiday in Spain.
They were about five weeks old now – big enough to walk around really well. They stomped all over each other, squeaking loudly, and they were always wrestling and jumping out at each other. They loved playing with all the toys Lily had persuaded Mum and Dad to get from the pet shop, too. Their favourite was a feathery stick, a bit like a feather duster, and Lily spent ages waving it about for them.
Dad had found a big shallow plastic storage box up in the loft when he was looking for the sterilizer and he’d brought it down to use as a pen to keep the kittens in. It meant they had space to move around but they were safer than they would be loose in the kitchen. But it hadn’t lasted long. They still used it to sleep in but they’d learned to wriggle and scramble their way out after just a few days.
“Stanley – he’s my favourite,” Lily said, pointing him out. “He’s like a little fluffy snowball!”
“He is cute,” Mara agreed. “But I love the stripes on the other two as well. Isn’t it loads of work looking after them all?”
“They’re starting to eat proper food now – special kitten food mixed with a bit of their milk. At least that means we can just feed them really late at night and then early in the morning. No one has to get up in the middle of the night any more.” Lily reached her hand into the plastic box and Stanley staggered determinedly towards her, licking at her fingers.