Yam started out as a controversial presence in the clinic/house.  We responded to a house call of a very young kitten that needed care until it could be rehomed.  When we showed up, the homewoners presented us with this tiny, screaming ball of orange fluff.  It was immediately evident that the kitten’s eyes had just opened and this little thing was hongray.

This doesn't look loud but trust me, he was loud

This doesn’t look loud but trust me, he was loud

The controversy surrounding the acceptance of this kitten was that the chances of survival for a kitten this young away from its mother were abysmal, no matter how skilled the supportive care.  But as the mother could not be found, we accepted the kitten and the inevitable fate that it would probably die in 2 or 3 days.

So we fed him.

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And fed him

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and fed him

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and fed him some more.

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We had to come up with a rotation schedule for feedings at midnight, 3am and 6am.  If the dogs barking and chickens screaming weren’t already enough, now we had alarm clocks going off, people fumbling around in the dark, and a kitten crying.  Boy did that kitten cry.  He cried because you woke him up.  He cried because you were trying to feed him.  He cried because you stopped feeding him.  He cried, he cried, he cried.

But soon his eyes went from open and unseeing

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To looking directly into yours

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And he went from commando crawling

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To toddling about

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He went from not pooping

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To non-stop pooping

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He went from only child

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To annoying younger sibling

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He went from this helpless, hopeless thing

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To our beautiful little sweet potato, Yam

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