Articles Cat Breeding The Story of Shakir - A Hand Raised Siamese Kitten - By Yvonne Murphy - Kalikareem Siamese | The Story of Shakir - A Hand Raised Siamese Kitten - By Yvonne Murphy - Kalikareem Siamese |
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| Written by Administrator | |
| Tuesday, 29 July 2008 | |
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The Story of Shakir
On June 5th 2007 , my darling girl 'Miah' went into early labour, 9 days before her due date.
On that occasion, I rushed her to my vet who delivered the other 5 safely and Miah proved to be a wonderful and doting Mum to Khan, Razah, Sahrin and their litter-siblings. This time, however, was different altogether.Miah (pictured above) had started labour far too early, and once again started having difficulty giving birth to the kittens, so I rushed her to my vet where she gave birth waiting for him to arrive as it was out of hours. The first kitten was stillborn and tiny. Robin Campbell (my vet) feared the worst and told me that as she was aborting them, he'd decided the best thing to do was operate on her to get the others out, and, in view of her obstetric history, spay her at the same time. I knew he was right, but I came away from the surgery feeling absolutely heartbroken. I'd been told to go home and wait for the phone call to go back and pick her up to fetch her home - it seemed like forever. The phone finally rang and I off I went to pick her up. As the nurse came down the passageway with Miah in her carrier, Robin followed close second with a towel in his hands, which he proceeded to hand to me.
I put them straight onto a heated pad when I got home and tried to get Mum to settle down with them. One or two wanted to suckle milk from her but she was having none of it. She roamed the room and ignored the small cries coming from the carrier. She drank a lot as her throat was sore after the operation. I knew the chance of her accepting them was remote, but I remembered what she was like with the last litter and hoped she would be the same with these babies.
Despairing, I even tried to get another girl of mine, Shebhan, who had two small kittens of her own and was still producing milk , to try to feed them, but with no success. Although I didn't hold out much hope for their survival, I wanted them to be warm, cosy and happy for what little time they had here, so I kept them separate from their Mum and had them together in the carrier on their own.
As night went into morning, the kittens started to cry and move around looking for food and their Mum so I went and made them a 3ml bottle of Cimicat milk, and, armed with a syringe with a teat on the end, proceeded to feed them in turn. They were ravenous and once fed settled down again. I helped them go to the loo and washed them afterwards so they would be nice, clean and happy. Sadly, the inevitable happened and I lost 2 kittens within hours of each other. I tried to feel positive as I knew it was going to happen, but I was so upset and I was now down to 3 kittens.
I couldn't trust anybody else to do the feeds, as they were so small, and their care was so time-consuming, I was never out of my pyjamas. The days passed, a week and then two. Their eyes were open and they were getting round the carrier looking for me to give them milk. I named them IMAN (Faith) RAJA (Hope) and SHAKIR (Thanks) Above is a photograph of them at 13 days old, sadly it was to be their last together. Raja was the first to leave us, the vet said the cause of his death was probably neurological, and within a few hours, little Iman joined his brother. They were 13 and 14 days old respectively. I was crushed and overwhelmed by it, it was so cruel for them to come that far and then to leave us. In the back of my mind, I knew it could and it probably would happen, but when it did it took away my breath and left me numb.
She was also suckling harder on her bottle and I was increasing her milk daily. My days were completely taken up with feeds, sterilizing, helping her to go to the loo, bathing her, changing her bedding - and, of course, giving her lots of kisses and cuddles. If I absolutely had to go anywhere of importance, I would make sure I was back within the hour. She was 4 weeks old when I had to take her to a show that I had entered Khan in. I had to take her along to give her hourly feeds throughout the day. John, my husband, dutifully sat with her in the car whilst I was in seeing to Khan and then rushing back out to see to Shakir. Her travel bag held more than you'd pack for a human child. It consisted of:- 2 extra blankets 2 Thermos flasks of boiling water (1 for washing her, the other for warming up her feeds) 2 bottles (1 milk the other water) Wet wipes Roll paper towel, 1 Towel 2 Flannels Bag cotton wool balls Baby talc Small plastic bags (for rubbish). It was an exhausting day, but she seemed to enjoy it!!
She was very slow to start lapping, but she was well-hydrated as she was still having her bottle. At this point, she was also moved from her small room (carrier) to a larger room (kitten pen), as she was climbing all over the place and needed bigger surroundings. She was 5 weeks old before she started to use her litter tray and I felt confident enough to leave her at night and go to bed for a couple of hours before getting up again to give her a bottle.
She was growing big and heavy, and, more importantly, becoming very naughty. I couldn't possibly discipline her, I would just laugh at her antics and as a consequence of this she became very spoilt and naughty indeed. The bond between us just got stronger as she got older, which isn't surprising - after all, I was the only Mum she knew. Shakir was still dependant on me for almost everything, but I didn't mind. She always smelled of Johnson's Baby Powder, and loved to be washed. We would play for hours, and she would always bite me somewhere that would really hurt, like my lips, nose or cheek - not nasty biting, but playful bites to show affection.
Because I was aware that as happy as she was playing with 'Mum', she also needed to be a kitten and do kitten things with other kittens, I racked my brain to find her a suitable playmate as my other Meezers were far too big to be with her. Fortunately, this happened at the time when Hassan came to live with us, followed swiftly by Hadji and Sheshan, so she suddenly had some ‘kitten pals'.
She had her first 'Call' at 8 months old and that is exactly when she stopped having her bottle, possibly because she just couldn't keep her mouth shut for long enough to suckle so she simply forgot about it, and I didn't pursue it either. She sounds like a Canadian Timber Wolf when she calls - so loud. She is being spayed shortly, no babies for her, she‘s too precious for even the slightest risk. Her first birthday is on June 5 th , 2008 and she is having a massive party! She's sent out invitations to 102 of her Meezer friends from all over the U.K and U.S.A to join in her Birthday Celebrations from wherever they are - all are sending photos and greetings for me to add onto her page at a later stage.
We've had the most amazing adventure together so far - and I wouldn't have missed a single second of it for the world.
Hell , yes - just to see her beautiful blue eyes looking into mine as if to say 'Thank you, Mum - for everything' Written on: 3rd April 2008
These extracts are taken from the day to day diary first printed on the Hubbell Bubbell Forum. The thread was the longest ever on the forum thus far - it has 20,084 views and 1,117 replies to date from forum members - please take a moment to share in the days I spent saving this most precious of babies.
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| Last Updated ( Thursday, 31 July 2008 ) |
It was her second litter, her first litter of 7 having been born by Caesarian section after she managed to deliver 2 kittens at home before getting into difficulty delivering the rest.
I was amazed to see 5 tiny little kittens wrapped up inside, they had hardly any fur and their ears were fused back flat to their heads. They were very still and quiet, and Robin told me that he was shocked to see them so perfect yet so small, but he'd decided that it was worth a chance to be with Mum and let nature take its course.
Sadly, she had no maternal feelings for them whatsoever. I tried everything to coax her to feed and settle with them but it was useless. On the rare occasion I got her to lie down, I would put a kitten to her to suckle and she would growl and snap at them. It was just as if she was looking at another litter of kittens that had absolutely nothing to do with her.
They didn't make much noise, and didn't move a lot, but I reasoned that might have been due to the effects of the anaesthetic, so I stayed up all night in the hope that their mother would change her mind and start to take an interest in them.
Feeding was hourly, and boy did they remind me of that! I didn't go upstairs apart from to make the beds for 5 weeks from that night on - I would cat nap on the sofa in between feeds and baths, while they slept in their carrier inches away from me.
I only had Shakir to think of now and the routine carried on, and to my cautious joy, she went from strength to strength. Her fur was growing, her ears didn't look so odd, and her whiskers sprouted.
The following week she was introduced to solids, which she loved from the very first taste.
We'd developed such a special bond, Shakir wouldn't leave my side, she would perch herself on my shoulder and snuggle up into my neck. I was her Mum and that was that.
To everyone's amusement, she refused to give up her bottle, she was having none of that nonsense at all. She would have a bottle 3 times a day in addition to her solid food and went through 3 new bottles and countless teats by the time she stopped wanting it.
I didn't introduce her to the rest of my feline family till much later and luckily she got on well with them after a bit of reluctance to make friends and lots of hissing and spitting, but as long as she had Mum to run back to she was fine.
Shakir defied all of the odds to stay here with me, and the bond we share is deep and unexplainable. I love each and every one of my feline family very much, but Shakir is beyond special and she holds a unique place in my heart. She is a true miracle, and the living proof that miracles do happen.
Was it worth it? Would I do it all again?
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