awwww, reminds me of my Pilgrim. On Thanksgiving morning when I went out to feed horses, there was a tiny tiny kitten in the hay, one of Barn Cat's litter. (I board so she's not my cat.) She only recently brought them out of hiding. He was breathing shallow and totally limp. I decided that if he was still alive when I was done with chores, I'd see what I could do. He was. The little guy was so cold. I kept him wrapped in the hem of my sweatshirt on the way home, ignoring the fleas. When I got him home, I put him under warm water and massaged his little body. He faintly mewed. I gave him a little sugar water via a syringe and continued that about every 15 minutes; then mushed cat food every 2 hours. I took him with me to my friends where I was having Thanksgiving dinner, continuing the routine. I massaged him with a warm, wet cloth to encourage him to use the bathroom. Needless to say...Pilgrim thinks I'm his Mom. At first he slept in the bed curled under my chin (awww, the pulse in my throat). Heather (Navarre) said it was the smallest kitten she'd ever seen. Now that he's a big boy, He gets as close to me as he can and puts his head under my chin to sleep. He has yet to meow, but "talks" a lot. He's neutered now, of course. Ummm, I had no intention of having another cat. Mr. Beasley and Blue are older, so mature...but Pilgrim occasionally brings out the inner kitten in them!
