Just call me mom. That’s because I offered to be a foster mom for the shelter I adopted Mischief from. I’ve not had to deal with such a baby kitty in…ever. When Catherine and I brought Bandit home, he was just shy of 6 weeks old. “Lucky” – as my mother has dubbed this little baby cat – is just around (or shy of) 4 weeks old. She (I am told she’s a she) was rescued from a litter, rejected by their mother, and found covered in ticks. She’s got normal baby blue eyes, which are still very cloudy and unfocused. She walks – sort of. She kind of totters around. If I walk away from her, she’ll hip-hop along to follow me, but mostly she eats, sleeps, and needs to be put in the litter box every few hours. Essentially, it’s like having a baby around, except one that can fit in your hand. And doesn’t cry as loud as a human baby (but cri-cri she does).
Bandit and Mischief:
Bandit and Lucky (he cleaned her from head to toe about five minutes later):
Just Lucky:
EDIT: Lucky turned out to be a boy, and he has been named “Binky” due to the small woolen stuffed animal he carries around with him whenever he goes anywhere.