Four Black Kittens

It had been a tiring day. We had a labor intensive but fun fundraiser that morning. Some Board members and I were now at the shelter helping the staff to close an hour early since they had put in a long day too. We were cleaning litter boxes in our cat intake room, where the stray cats spend their required 72 hours waiting for an owner to show up. In a bottom cage were four fuzzy, black kittens. No Mom cat. They looked to be about 6 weeks old. They were all clumped together in the back corner of the cage, all four pairs of eyes wide open and watching us fearfully, moving in unison as we worked. I sat down down for a closer look and the bravest of the four hissed at me and backed tighter against his littermates. At the sound of that little hiss, our hearts sunk like rocks. These weren't going to make it to adoption. Today we already have at least 25 kittens at the shelter and 30-40 more out in foster care. I opened the cage and they scattered to get as far away from me as they could - these little, tiny babies. I caught one and held it close to me - hoping so hard that it would purr or even relax a little bit. I desperately hoped it would give me some small sign that it was salvagable. All it could do was struggle to get back to the others, still in the cage watching with those round, frightened eyes. We all knew, looking back at those soft, adorable, unwanted kittens, that when we left the room we would never see them again.