This kitten season has been, for me, the worst in my years of tending feral cats and their offspring. Not only have the numbers been staggering, but disease and birth defects have been exceptionally high. I have had both the privilege and the heartache to deal with each.

Losing any pet is difficult. Losing a whole litter of five kittens is tragic.

While I have had some great successes, there is nothing sadder than to care for tiny beings that you know are not going to make it. Still you try your best to bring comfort and health, hoping for a miracle along the way. In the end, a hole is ripped in your heart, and you cry a lot.

Nothing quite fills that void where playful, seemingly healthy kittens have once been. Every time you enter the space where they were, memories and visions spring up and the heart is once again heavy.

Driving home from yet another vet appointment with yet another cat, reminds me of “that” drive, and I see the little faces before me. I steer my mind to other things, as I feel my heart swell and my eyes tear up.

Friends, old and new, have been extremely supportive and the pain is lessening. I know that in time I will forget, not completely, but to a point where it doesn’t hurt so much.

Removing the physical evidence of their existence has helped, although I was left in care of their mother for several days. We cried together, she and I, until I found a safe place for her to go.

As another form of escape and mental therapy, I have distracted myself with an online game called Farm Town. In it you plant and harvest fields of crops. I find myself “writing’ in raspberries or grapes, words and images associated with cats. It’s an interesting therapy, and actually quite comforting to see these things “grow” and appear in your fields.

I have brought another litter of very healthy kittens into my house to foster and socialize. This in itself is the best distraction from painful memories. Who does not laugh and grab the camera when a kitten dashes by, crabbing towards its littermate with its tail fluffed up like a bottlebrush.

As they careen around the room slipping on the tile floor and trying to get their bearings, my resident cats cannot help but pause for hours on end to watch and sometimes to play. They are so irresistible, that even my Scottie has been tempted join in, bringing her toys as an offering of friendship.

I will continue helping the homeless, unwanted cats and kittens in our county, even when it hurts.

In loving memory of Moustachia’s beautiful kittens.