Denial is no longer an option.

It's official. I'm a Crazy Cat Lady.
This is Bosco. I found him when he was two days old. It was Mother's Day. Really.

2 or 3 days old. Maybe 4 by the time I found the camera.

I wasn't sure how to care for an infant cat but got excellent advice from several quarters. Keep him warm. For about two weeks he spent a lot of time sleeping on a sweater in a kitty litter bucket. I had just been to the thrift store and scored several cashmere sweaters -- 3 for $5 -- so the sweater is cashmere. Very soft. Very warm. The bucket is yellow. Very yellow. The color was not relevant to his care.

I named him Bosco because Don (or, in some sources, John) Bosco is the patron saint of editors and/or writers. This was warmly received at the writing center where I'm teaching. As was Bosco. I was feeding him every four hours so he went everywhere with me for a while. The first couple of weeks looked mostly like that ^ or like this:

When he was two weeks old I had to go to Ohio for a prepaid, no-refunds-for-any-reason class. So I took him with me. He was a B-I-G hit with most of the other ladies in the class. (I learned that there was one sourpuss, which was okay. Usually there is a sourpuss and usually it's me.)

Feeding always gathered a crowd. There is such a thing as kitten formula. He ate about a tablespoon at a time from a bottle that was almost bigger than he was.

(photo by Mary Valerie Richter)

It was an art class (color theory) and at times things got a little Escher-esque.

(photo by Mary Valerie Richter)

A week and 1200 miles later, we're home again. Bosco is three weeks old and mostly ears and feet.

Eight weeks now and he looks like a miniature cat rather than a kitten. Romping around and getting into and out of things. When he finishes growing into those ears, he'll be huge.

(Don't tell Stella he went to the art class instead of her.)

S: Wait. What?
M: Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.