Three kittens stayed at home, we fed them, we cleaned them, we cared. One kitten died three days ago, my sister cried because how tiny the kitten was, mom was sad because of how cute the kitten was, dad was sad because it was his favorite kitten, i wasn't that sad but neither too uncaring.
I already suspected one would die, just didn't knew when or why. I opened up a hole and buried the little one with my sister, i was sad the cat couldn't even reach the day where it would gain a name, so i gave it one while burying it.
I named him Hyacinth, because i asked him quietly for forgiveness.
Today, the second kitten had died. I am saddened, but not surprised. My sister was sad, but didn't cry. I wrapped him in paper to make the hole later.
Like the last one, i gave it a name. Sunflower, because of his slight orange fur and because it was the most active of the kittens.
The last one is weak, barely able to make a sound. Yet he lives. I want to stay, to make sure he lives. But i have to go in a few hours, letting the possibility of the little one dying
So, i let him sleep with our other cats. They didn't like it, but they stayed quiet. Now, seeing him snuggling to my cat, seeking warmth and breathing heavily, i gave him a name.
Aelita, not masculine, no. But i think it fits. I hope he lives, yet i know how slim the chances are. So, i hope for the better, let the little Aelita live, or die surrounded by the warmth of my bigger cats.
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