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As I type this, there is a kitten in my cleavage.
One of Liaden's kittens wasn't able to feed; its sibs kept pushing it away and its mom wasn't feeding it. It was down to skin and bones before I found it; now I'm feeding it homemade formula and keeping it warm between my breasts, curled up inside my shirt. My breasts are basically spread out on the desk, on top of a heating pad, so the kitten has warmth on three sides, a heartbeat, and a shady place to snuggle. It seems fairly content... at least it's had some energy, and seems more like a tired kitten than a dying kitten.
*shrugs* If I seem slow in conversations it's cos I am having to be careful how much I move my arms and hands, trying to let it sleep between the hourly-ish feedings.
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