A brief life no less thankful for

June 27, 2002

Dear Laura,

DC told me you were at her office Monday and spent an hour feeding the newborn kitten we found. She said you were feeling bad about your own kitten dying.

All of us occasionally are reminded how precious each second and how sacred each speck of life is. Sometimes the reminders sting.

The kitten you fed was a tiny dark blob lying in the doorway of the barn when I arrived at the farm Saturday morning. So much dirt and grass matted its fur it was hard to tell what kind of creature it was or whether it was alive. But wiping away the dirt revealed the ears and claws of a kitten who was indeed breathing. Its umbilical cord was still attached.

The mother cat and the rest of the kittens were not around, so DC put the frail lump in the feed bin where the cats come to eat, hoping the mother would reclaim her wayward offspring. We searched the barn again.

Suddenly we realized we were the parents of a newborn kitten.

DC got some infant formula and began feeding him. We didn't know from one hour to the next if he would live. He was so tiny, and getting the tip of the syringe into his mouth was difficult, but eventually his minuscule pink tongue and mouth sucked at the life being offered.

Something about feeding a kitten that way reassures you that whatever is wrong with the world can be righted. And slowly he transformed from a blob into the squirming handful you saw at the office.

Sunday, DC delivered the children's sermon at her church. She gave the children a flower, a painting, a cloth scented with gardenias and had them pass out raspberry candies to the congregation. Finally she produced one of God's miracles, the kitten.

She wanted the children to know that when you see something wonderful it's OK to say "thank you, God." You don't have to say it aloud.

Monday morning, our veterinarian put our foundling on kitten formula and a heating pad. She warned that if the kitten didn't get to feed from its mother at least once after being born it did not get the colostrum she produces initially. Colostrum is a substance that passes along immunities. Without colostrum, kittens and human babies are more susceptible to infections and disease. I got the impression we might be backing a longshot.

But still blind and deaf, the kitten met the dark and silent world with cries and claws outstretched. DC named him Crackerjack.

Then came the hard part.

Tuesday morning, Crackerjack could barely move and breathe and eat. The vet gave him a shot in the abdomen to rehydrate him and raise his blood-sugar level.

Crackerjack responded at first, became livelier and took some formula. I've never prayed for much, but I asked God to help this kitten.

He fought but we could see him weakening. DC took him back to the vet and began giving him electrolytes on the hour.

DC was crying and holding his motionless body in her hand when I arrived home from work that night.

Crackerjack is buried beneath the wisteria next to our house. When we walk by we will remember how intensely dear he became to us over four days one June and the compassion shown him by our veterinarian and the people in her office and people like you.

Some miracles look like a blob in the dirt.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.