Viking Kitties

My first fostering experience was with a batch of kittens who had lost their mother at a very young age--3 or 4 weeks old. They cried every time they heard me move! Always wanting food. . . feed me feed me feed me they mewed. They slept a lot too. And boy were they cute. I call them the viking kitties because of their red hair and so I named two of them--Erik the Viking (who liked to sleep in his food) and Brunhilde. The smallest red one I named Golda after Golda Meir and the black kitty I named Malcolm mostly because my nephew wanted me too. He had a cat with the same name that was also black, but his cat had passed on.

Here are some photos of that batch of fun-ness

Erik had such issues with food I put down cardboard to keep it off the carpet. He was a real fatty by the time he left a few short weeks later.

That Golda was a sweety.

I wonder where these little fluff balls are and how they are doing.