
Baby Fawkes in his basket.
Fawkes is a ginger not-so-tom cat I rescued at 3 days old when his mother abandoned him. We don’t know why he was abandoned; but she left him and his sister outside in a cold laundry room overnight. By morning, his little calico sister was dead and this little guy was almost frozen stiff; he could barely croak. I picked him up and rubbed him to warm him up. We brought him inside and warmed him up with blankets and a hairdryer and gave him warm milk soaked in a napkin to suck on. Once he got warmed up, he started YOWLING. He was definitely not happy about the situation he was in, and who could blame him? My aunt went out as soon as the stores opened and got him some special kitten formula so he could get a proper meal. (Or at least, as close to proper as we could get.) He was so tiny that he fit in the sleeve of my cozy fleece jacket, so I held him like that when I had to move around. He cried if I put him down, so that first day I carried him with me everywhere. This is a picture of him at about a week and a half. He was the cutest kitten; a little orange puff ball with a great big round kitten belly and spindly kitten legs.


































