Miss B Paris

On the 25th of April I received a call from the Animal Shelter saying they had a single very small kitten that needed fostering. A worker had been doing it but couldn't supply regular attention and her dog was eyeing it as possible food.

I went out and met little Paris. She was a teeny tiny little tortoiseshell kitten, unlike the black tortoiseshells with orange markings she was white with black and orange splotches. I do remember there is other definitions between the two different colors but so far as I've ever been told while volunteering they're both classified as a form of tortoiseshell here.

Paris was a measly 257 grams when she came into my care, she was supposedly four weeks old. During the first few days the kitten got quite a few rinse downs as she had some loose stool which she managed to climb all through and when I met her she'd lain in vomit so she stank...

Paris rolling around on my lap on the trip to my grandfather's 90th
(attempting to play with the sparkle ball)

On the 28th I had an non negotiable 90th birthday of my grandfather's to attend and was freaking out at what that would mean for the kitten. She was getting regular milk supplement via syringe feedings that she was taking well but she didn't have a tonne of energy and quite easily fit in her carrier with all her basic needs. Paris had her first car trip and joined the 90th party meeting more of my family than even the permanent residents ever met. She was a big hit with the kids and some of my other relatives.

Paris enjoying the warmth of the blanket and my laptop

A few times I had to help her go to the toilet. Most of her behavior was more towards a four week old kitten even though her weight put her little below three weeks. She was unbelievably ribby. This photo gives an idea when all her fuzz is wet just how little she was.

Paris after much needed bath

Always, Always Paris was a fighter. Her name did NOT stick. The entire time she was knocking down weight milestones everyone was trying out numerous different names. Most of the names tried began with the letter B.

My sister and her boyfriend were determined that she be called Barbara

My mother decided her name should be Bubbles

My father decided her name should be Bandit because of the little black mask marking over her eyes.

I tended to resume to referring to her as Paris because thats what the shelter named her and thats where she would be returning. It is a method I use to not get too attached.

Who could resist that face?

Paris got the nickname from me of being a 'Bitch' (please excuse the language). Since she didnt have much interaction with kittens her own age I introduced her to Leo and Terra. I supervised all visits and made sure she was never hurt. I shouldnt have worried. As she grew she full on tackled Leo or Terra for no apparent reason. She was scared of nothing and cocky in her confidence.

Imagine something the size of a shoe attacking a medium to large sized handbag. Objects referred to are inanimate but they're the only things I could think of that would give a rough idea of the size difference.

Paris sizing up Leo

By the time Paris was ready to return I was quite glad. She was a mini ball of energy and by far one of the most outgoing little kittens I had helped raise. Paris was not overly cuddly she was a terror to Leo and Terra.

Size ratio - Mug is fairly big but she's the same size as it

She made weight and passed her vet check with flying colors. Paris didn't however do too great in mass population of the sales rooms with cats that probably put her in her place and there were more of them than there was kittens, she was the only one still very small.

Paris got taken out and put in a rabbit hutch just so she could have her own space and still be visible to the public wanting to buy her.

Paris back at the shelter looking more
 like a young cat than a kitten

I got the news a few weeks later that Paris went home with none other than Lilah from my previous foster group. Woot. Happy times.