Rescue Me! (Sing it if ya know it, kids)

THIS post is actually a response to this post, but I liked what Holly triggered so much that I decided it would be tonight's outing.

Have I told you the whole story of my furbabies?  I think I've shared snippets.  If I've told it before, well then, tough noogies sorry, I feel like tellin' it AGAIN.  Here's what I had to say on Holly's site:

Both of my furbabies are feral rescues!  I was living in a single-bedroom duplex that had a small crawlspace, and the feral momma had apparently had her litter there, under my apartment, maybe four weeks prior to my discovery.  My neighbor had attempted a rescue when he heard them crying, but not being of the right "animal person" frame of mind, he didn't ask anyone for help in doing it right.  He went to the local pet supply shop and bought weaning formula, and started "taking care" of them in the absence of their momma.

The evening I discovered them, he was rolling his trashcan from the curb as I was pulling into my driveway, and I saw these two tiny furballs following him.  I had locked myself out that day, so when he helped me break into my place, the babies followed both of us in.  I had already inherited from my former roommate a 23-pound cat (Miles), who had no interest in the twins.  The neighbor hadn't approached me about them, either, because of Miles.  He retrieved the formula for me, and while he was gone, my little girl who would end up being known as Cocoa marched right up to the big boy!  He immediately went to higher ground where she couldn't follow, while my little boy Smokey stayed right at his new momma's feet in the kitchen.

Mixed up the formula according to the directions and the neighbor discovered, to his horror, that he'd been severely malnourishing them (too much water, not enough nutrients), and the babies he'd buried since his "rescue" had died at his hands.  The feral momma was probably only out hunting and would have returned to feed the litter, had he not intervened.  But my Smokey and Cocoa were the fighters - they needed to find me, and I'm so grateful to have gotten home when I did that day!

I'll always "rescue" now.  There are just too many out there in need of us, not to rescue.

The babies at about six months old.
When they first rescued me, they each fit
in the pockets of my bathrobe.
Sadly, I can't find any of those early pics.
At six months, they both still fit on my lap.

Miles. I used this pic to help him find a new momma,
since he had picked his first momma (shelter rescue),
but he never picked me.

Since I didn't have a couch when I lived alone, this twin bed
made "do".  This was Miles' safety zone when Cocoa first
introduced herself.  By the time he'd found Sherry, the twins
had taken over this space amongst the stuffed animals.

Miles and his new momma, Sherry.
She lived alone and knitted blankets to
supplement her disability income, and
Miles made his way RIGHT INTO
both her heart and home. A good match.