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The new cat was given the name Lacey because my wife said she was as black and as soft as black lace. Lacey had the personality of a turnip. She was sweet and gentle, but that was all she ever did: be sweet and gentle. And followed Annie around like a shadow.<o:p></o:p>

       Somehow, though, she was a bad influence on Annie. After all the years of no babies, about two months after Lacey’s arrival I noticed Annie was getting fat. And there was some development of her mammary glands. She was pregnant. She had still acted her same old way (or so we thought) whenever she saw another cat (besides Lacey), so I don’t know how it happened. Well, yes, I do know how, but I really couldn’t picture a tom cat getting that close to her.<o:p></o:p>

       About a week later, I noticed Lacey was also broadening, She was pregnant, too. <o:p></o:p>

       Annie’s pregnancy resulted because I had just put off spaying her-laziness, I guess-but Lacey’s condition came about because I just plain didn’t even think about spaying her. It never crossed my mind. That’s pretty dumb, I know. <o:p></o:p>

       About ten days after I noticed Annie was pregnant (and two or three days after I saw Lacey was that way, too), we were peacefully sitting at home one Sunday afternoon when Annie began pacing. I thought maybe she wanted out, but before I could open the door she went to the bottom shelf of a bookcase and lay down. Lacey went with her. (There were only two books on the shelf.)<o:p></o:p>

       A few minutes later my wife said, “What’s Annie doing?”<o:p></o:p>

       I looked over at her. She was giving birth to a kitten right there on the hard wooden shelf. She seemed unconcerned and Lacey seemed fascinated.<o:p></o:p>

       Within twenty minutes, she had delivered three kittens. As they were born, she licked them and chewed off the umbilical cord, and as she lay back for more uterine contractions, Lacey would take over the licking. Annie didn’t mind. <o:p></o:p>

       When the birthing process was completed, Annie gathered her three babies to her belly, and Lacey lay right there with them. The two took turns locking and cleaning the kittens. Lacey, it appeared, would be a good mother herself, maybe within the week. <o:p></o:p>

       But it wasn’t that long. My wife placed a bath towel under the cats so they would be more comfortable and she called me over.<o:p></o:p>

       “Take a look at Lacey,” she said.<o:p></o:p>

       Lacey was starting to have a kitten. She eventually had four-prematurely. They were small and weak and just not ready to be born yet. Two died within minutes, one lasted about an hour, and the fourth lived until the next day. I fad it with an eyedropper, but its sucking and swallowing reflexes were almost nonexistent <o:p></o:p>

       I don’t know if the stimulation of Annie’s delivery had initiated the same process in Lacey or if it was an abortion that was just timed peculiarly, but Lacey seemed to think that Annie’s kittens were hers. Or at least, partly hers. She helped Annie nurse them. In fact, when Annie decided she wanted a break, Lacey would stay with the three kittens and they would nurse her. Rarely has any litter been fed so well.<o:p></o:p>

       We found good homes for the three by the time they were six or seven weeks old, and stupidly true to form, I didn’t think about spaying.<o:p></o:p>

       A few months later, it was obvious that Annie was pregnant again. I checked Lacey closely, but I didn’t think she was. Thank goodness.<o:p></o:p>

       Barb kept a towel on the shelf this time, and Annie delivered there-four kittens-one evening while we were out. When we came home, the two adults cats were surrounding the four newborns, and all seemed very happy. <o:p></o:p>

       When I checked them a little while later, I found Lacey on the floor in front of the shelf, lying flat on her side with her abdomen pumping heavily. I couldn’t find anything wrong with her, but then I looked at her rear end. With each straining motion of her abdomen, a small portion of vagina prolapsed through her vulva. <o:p></o:p>

       I called my small-animal vet friend. “It sounds lie a dystocia,” he said.<o:p></o:p>

       “She’s not pregnant,” I said.<o:p></o:p>

       “Are you certain?”<o:p></o:p>

       “Almost”<o:p></o:p>

       He came over. Yes, she was not pregnant, he said, but “ she sure looks like she’s trying to give birth.”<o:p></o:p>

       He sedated her, but she wouldn’t stop straining. She died the next morning. My friend did a postmortem exam on her and could find nothing abnormal. I assume she somehow was triggered into “labor” by Annie’s delivery. After all, it had apparently happened before. <o:p></o:p>

       Annie searched for Lacey for weeks. Many times I saw her go to the living-room chair where they often slept together and sniff around it and even look behind it. They had spent a lot of time in the guest room, and Annie would go there, jump on the bed, look under it, and sniff at the closet door. She’d prowl around the basement at length. <o:p></o:p>

       She managed to raise her kittens by herself. Almost. One died, but the other three went to good homes. In retrospect, we should have kept one for her. She was spayed shortly after her last kitten left, and until her death years later she never made friends with another cat, even though we had several others while she was still with us. <o:p></o:p>

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Author: Grant Kendall (More Animals In My Life-Stories Of A Country Vet)             

 

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