Kitties, germs, and antibiotics

This bronchial infection crap is pissing me off.  I haven't been able to swim in forever, the coughing is ongoing, I'm more exhausted that usual, and it seems to have settled right in.  Bitch.

Perhaps this is why I have so identified with White Cat.  But let me back up and begin for you The Saga of the Cats.

When I arrived at the homestead in April there were two farm cats - Dad's cat (black and white) and the other grey-ish one.  The latter gave birth two four kittens, made off with two of them, orphaned the other two, and was never seen again.  My mom and brother heroically attempted to save the two infant kittens and one survived (see picture above).  We call her Grey Cat.  When she was weaned and ready to go outside, Dad's cat had given birth to a litter of four kittens just a few weeks younger than Grey Cat.  Amazingly and miraculously, Grey Cat was welcomed into the family and given all the love and attention all the others were given.  Then we lost one black and white cat suddenly and mysteriously to some unknown death and another black and white cat decided to go live with the neighbors.

This left us with three young cats: White Cat, Grey Cat, Black Cat.  My brother's dog constantly tries to eat them, but my dogs love them and Grey Cat is known to hang out in their hours at all hours.  But White Cat got really sick and last Friday my mom and I took her on an emergency run to the vet.  With a wild farm cat on my lap for an hour or so, we learned she had an upper respiratory infection and ear mites.  But she'll be okay.  And we really need our cats to be okay this winter to kill the mice and voles that come in from the fields.

Everyday I've been giving White Cat dosages of the same antibiotic I'm taking for my bronchial issue (only hers smells like orange Popsicles and mine smells like poo).  I give all the cats ear medicine and let me tell you, they freaking hate it.  My hands and arms are covered in scratches and bites.  But we're starting to be really good friends as I hold them, cuddle them, whisper soothing things to them, helping them get better.  Oh, and did I mention I'm freaking allergic to cats?

Taking care of my dogs has long sustained me when I've felt like my life has no meaning, purpose, or use.  But  trying save kittens has admittedly helped.  I just sitting here with tears welling in my eyes wondering if it's enough.  I once had such high standards and goals, such high hopes and dreams for my life.  An existence where I manage to give a cat her antibiotics and then take a bath hardly seems worth the time it took for my gestation.

PS Since it's difficult to round the cats up these days since I'm the mean medicine lady, I couldn't get a more recent kitty picture, but the one above is from when Grey Cat was just a couple of weeks old.