Formulas.

The Kittens have come to my mother at the precise right time in her life. They're three weeks old and wobbly. She has to feed them from a bottle every two hours. Before feedings, they crawl over each other and wiggle and cry, hungry. Today I sat on the floor with her as she cooed them and shushed them and held them like babies, wrapped in towels. She pleaded with them to drink the formula and rocked and burped them when they were done. When they finish eating, she rubbed them softly with all-natural baby wipes to clean them and teach them how to someday clean themselves.

It's tragic and beautiful to see her care so deeply about these little orphaned kittens - especially at a time where the stress and heartbreak are plenty in her life. I'm glad they're here, though. Otherwise she might be too sad and focus on the problems too much. Become trapped inside herself. I'm glad she has the distraction.