u/glitterelephant

Please meet Harper and Ruger (both about 8/9 weeks old). Both are strays that were abandoned by their mommas for whatever reason. I found Ruger in the grass on Good Friday. He was screaming and crying out for mama and I came back over the course of half a day and no other cat had come by, he was still yelling, so I called around and a high school friend found a wonderful woman who helped nurse him back to health.

Harper also was found by someone. She had a mama, but either mama got trapped, abandoned her, or a third option I refuse to think about. She made her way to the same foster mom, and both of the kittens have only thrived since then

I picked them up this last Sunday and they've been hanging out in our spare bathroom, and they are the tiniest balls of chaos ever. They did get their first vet visit on Wednesday, and the vet said they sound and look healthy. They did an initial FeLV/FIV test and it was negative, but we are still gonna slowly introduce them to our cat over the next month or so to give them time to grow.

Right now, they are running around and knocking their kibble saucer over so I am trying to figure out how to keep the kibble in the bowl (and only one of them is eating the kibble I keep out - Harper seems to not want to eat it).

This is my gal Harper. She's photogenic and she knows it.

Lil baby bean Ruger, when I found him vs when I got to bring him home

2 months ago, I posted about this little kitten who seemed to be abandoned by their mama.

Yesterday, I picked him up from his foster mom yesterday. She had picked up a little girl who is maybe a few days older than him (her mama abandoned/wasn't feeding her about 4 weeks after she was born). She asked if I would take both, and I said hell yes. She's also an orange but is a bit darker than her brother.

Now we have Ruger and Harper at home and they're such little hams. They're running around our second bathroom, eating both wet and dry kibble. They are absolutely super affectionate.

This is Harper - the lil baby who

This is Ruger - the little baby I found outside all alone

I honestly don't know where to begin really.

My mom started repeating stories about 10 years ago. Nothing crazy, I just knew her "brain was full" (as my dad has always put it when he forgets something) and I know her working early hours made her a little more tired than she wanted to let on, so forgetfulness wasn't anything too out of the ordinary for her. I also suspected she had ADHD and just never got diagnosed. My Grandmother, her mom, passed away in 2018 from a blood clot that was discovered that led to her being hospitalized and getting sick because of it. I don't know the exact cause of death, but I know she has a genetic blood clotting disorder. She also had dementia due to some strokes she suffered a few years prior (doctor called them mini strokes since they weren't super obvious to someone looking at her - but her brain had been altered). She went downhill pretty quick and passed away. My mom dealt with all of the arraignments. I know her mom having dementia weighed heavy on her.

My mom smoked a pack or two a day. We tried getting her to quit, her doctors tried. She tried medication, patches, therapy. Nothing seemed to kick the habit for her. I think this exacerbated her condition, but again - I'm not a doctor so who knows.

She was formally diagnosed with vascular dementia with Alzheimer's in 2024. My dad took her to a neurology office here in San Antonio, and she ended up walking out halfway through testing because she was getting frustrated and kept telling the staff there she didn't need to be there. That's when we all really noticed a change in her. Her neurologist prescribed some anti-anxiety medication and some other medication that was supposed to help slow the progression of the disease (and I'm sure it did - I just didn't see the merit in it, but hey - try anything right?). In 2025, her doctor agreed that she should be placed on hospice to receive more care from Medicare and TriCare (my dad and mom are both Veterans - mom served 6 years, dad did over 26). That helped my dad out a LOT because he was able to then help pay for a home health nurse to help her with medication, daily living tasks, etc.

Let me tell you - the woman who was my mom's primary care giver is an actual saint. Absolutely love that woman and cannot begin to thank her enough for what she did for my family. I am eternally grateful for her (and her husband - he would come over occasionally and help my dad with farm chores or building things - just both are amazing humans). Christine is an absolute angel. She was by my mom's side when she passed, she was at her service. She promised me she was going to check in on my dad. She truly became part of the family.

About 2 weeks before Mother's Day, my dad told me he got my mom an electric chair lift, a wheelchair and a hospital bed for the living room. She spent most of her time asleep now, and he wanted her to be more comfortable than on the couch. He also wanted to keep an eye on her. A few days after he got that for her, she suddenly lost the ability to walk. She could move her legs and arms, but she wasn't able to walk. Her doctor put her on some other medication to help ease pain and to help her sleep. I went to see her on Mother's Day (I live half an hour away) and she was sleeping in her bed. I squeezed her hand, told her Happy Mother's Day and that I loved her.

Friday the 15th, my dad said her pulse ox was low (in the 80s). They managed to get it back up into the 90s and Christine put her in her wheelchair and wheeled her around outside and put her on the patio (one of her favorite places to sit and smoke) and feel the sunshine. Christine knew it was time and was trying to give her a few last good moments. She said my mom didn't even fight her when washing her hair and my mom fought her on everything lol. She was still a very strong woman even though her mind wasn't with her. Saturday was the same - pulse ox was low then high, then low and stayed low. Sunday morning, my mom was gone. Christine said her pulse ox never got above 40 Sunday morning and she took her last breaths at home with my dad by her side. I joked that she was a good Catholic by dying on Sunday.

I know every emotion I'm feeling is grief. I logically know that. I know that nothing will be able to bring my mom back. I lied to myself the entire time she was sick - "I've already come to terms that the mom I know and love is gone, so I am at peace if she passes". I took last week off because I couldn't begin to even worry about work. We had her service last Thursday because my brother had to fly back to California (he's active-duty Army and had to be back by midnight Friday). We're picking up my mom's ashes today.

I don't know why I wrote all of this - maybe just to get it off my chest? Help lessen the grief a little bit? I dunno. Now I need to find the perfect urn for her, since I didn't pick one out for me at the funeral home (My dad got one for him there). I don't think I'm ready for the finality of picking up her ashes because then I truly have to face that its real.