three kittens in the yard; life used to be so hard, the old
song claims, this, the third batch of one cat has produced yet not without
flaws, the one week old from an earlier batch she abandoned, never meant to
live, even when we struggled to keep it alive. Now, another troubled kitten
with the latest batch, with non-functioning front legs, she kept rather than
abandoned, we determined to fix it and release (nobody would adopt it), but no
able to survive out of doors with our without us, the way his more sturdy
siblings can looking, up at me with utter sadness when I come near, as if it
knows fate is against it and yet tries to thrive, hobbling after the others,
trying to take part in a life that may end up too short, yet still struggling
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