Almost Two Weeks Old

Minerva has been by my side for every moment, waking and sleeping, since we got her. She goes to work with me. She goes to my volunteer meetings with me, and she also goes to social events with me.

At twelve days old she weighed as much as the average just-born kitten. Although she has opened her eyes and is developing, she is incredibly small and does not do much in the way of gaining weight. I've made an educated guess that she was a premature kitten, which sucks, because it's hard enough to hand-raise a normal kitten.


We go everywhere together. We stay home together. When she eats a big meal I am so proud of her strength, and the whole world seems a bit brighter. When she seems suspiciously, scarily tired or just won't eat, I'm convinced she will die.


Slowly, slowly, she is stabilizing. She will be two weeks old tomorrow and she weighs as much as a granola bar. Although there are no guarantees at this point, she's doing well.

I get up at 2:30 in the morning to feed her, and as I do so I will her to live. To drink her milk and grow. Live.