Well, Diary. I have, as they say, good news and bad news.

The good news are that Isabella had her kittens the other day (Monday night). Two boys. First an all-black little fellow, and a couple of minutes later, a black-and-white spotted one.
Well. You know how kittens are, and all. It was great. I'm glad I was there when she gave birth. I've never really seen anything of the kind before.

This brings me to the bad news. The younger, spotted kitten has passed away.
See, rather early on, after the first 12 hours or so, it started showing that this one didn't seem to feed properly. He appeared unable to locate the nipples on his own, and when put against one of them he merely backed away, as if to continue searching. Now and then he would seem to come across a tuft of fur, and started making sucking noises, his little chest heaving. I tried placing him against a nipple again, but once more, he would crawl away.
After 24 or so hours, his brother having gotten visibly larger and thicker, the little guy still looked about the same as when he'd just been born. And still, I couldn't see him making any attempts at feeding.
Then, throughout the day today, still a very tiny little thing, he seemed to get weaker and weaker, and wouldn't do much besides lying around. And about an hour ago, I found him dead, lying on his back a few inches away from his mother.

I don't really know what else to say, Diary. I don't really know anything about kittens, and I can't tell what happened here. It struck me a few times to find some kind of milk-replacement and try feeding him through a pipette, but I never did. Maybe I should have. Maybe this is a common occurrence, and that's the thing to do. Maybe I should have done some reading about the whole thing before she had her kittens. I hate not knowing anything.

I guess the whole "this is the way of nature" thing was in the back of my head. You know, that things will work themselves out, because cats act on instinct and know what to do. Fuck that. I'm looking to become a doctor, and that's how I think. What if this was about a human instead of a cat? Would it be more apparent to do whatever I could then, the way of nature or not, I wonder.

So. I have to tell you, I'm sad as hell to see the little guy go. I can't really tell anyone else. Sometimes, all you get is 48 hours of failing health and faint, fading squeaks, and then it's over, just as suddenly as it began. Damnit, you. I wish this wasn't it. I wish it wasn't so.

I'm sad as hell for Isabella, too. You know, the reaction from a cat in this situation hits me harder than that of a human. She didn't scream, or cry out. She just licked and prodded him a little, as if expecting him to get up again, and then looked confusedly around her and at me, as if not knowing what to do. And I picked him up and carried him away, while she squirmed a little and then stoically watched me go.

She seems a little worried now, but maybe it's just me. I don't know how a thing like this would appear to a cat. Can they have feelings of loss, of missing someone, and can they hold on to them? Is it loss she's going through, or is it more some kind of sense of failure toward her instincts to protect and take care of her young at all costs? Or is she forgetting about it even as I type this? I wish I could tell, or communicate to her, somehow.

As it is, she's alone with the black little kitten now. I guess she'll have plenty to do in taking care of him, too. But he'll have to grow up without a brother to spar with or measure up against. I wonder if he, too, experiences this, if he is in some way feeling that something's missing, or not as it should be.
I'm sad as hell to see him go.

Well, Diary. I don't really know what else to say.

Ok, one thing, I guess. I have my final exam coming up the day after tomorrow (or tomorrow, depending on how you look at it), but I don't give a fuck. I just don't care. I can't really do any studying now, and if I fail it there's another one in August.
If I were to say this to my father, he'd go crazy and think I was insane to act like this over a kitten.
But that's him. When I was a kid I used to ask him questions like if he would rather have his new camera destroyed or a hundred-thousand ladybugs squished, and his answers were always the same. I haven't asked him for a good couple of years now, but I don't think they've changed. So I won't tell him.

So, I'm glad that I have you, and I tell you all of this here.