Today we are celebrating the 12th birthday of one of my furbabies.
12 years ago I found a shoebox beside the bins, with what I at first thought was a dead kitten. He was furless, covered in ants and not moving. I bent down to check and he starting screaming.
I quickly rushed him home then straight to our vets who suggested he would probably not survive the night, and there started a long process of feeding every three hours for the next month or so. I was shattered, but happy with my little blue-eyed boy. And now he's 12 years old.