A year ago we got a baby kitten and named her Bramble. I wanted to name her Amphora because the children where making Egyptian amphoras in their art/history class. But no, Bramble is our kitty's name. She is a very good kitty. (And she has provided some of my favorite photo ops.)
Last night about 9:00 Ry appeared at the top of the stairs. "Bramble is in my bed and something white is hanging out of her butt and I am scared." All of those hours of love and rides in the baby carriage and gentle pats really paid off for Ry last night. I wanted the kids to encounter birth. I never dreamed they would actually get to watch. Bramble needed (like all laboring mothers) a place she felt safe with those she trusted most. She chose Ry's bed. And last night, for about six hours, she had those kittens and my children got to watch. It was magical. It was very real. It was bloody and there was tons of amniotic fluid everywhere. Bramble had to work hard. She yowled with the first kitten. She panted. She purred. She contracted. She expanded. She ate the after birth. She licked and nursed. And my kids got to see it all.
Please don't come tell me about PETA. I promise I will find them responsible homes and I will have Bramble fixed in two months. I know why those things are important. But I also know that kids these days are too sheltered from real life. Real Life. And there is one adorable and fierce purring puddle of real life happening in my daughter's bed Right Now.