That was the closest thing to a name he ever had. Also lil' booger, and precious angel, and sweet baby. This is him one day old. Actually just under 24 hours, Wednesday evening. Also 1 day old here. That was when I noticed his big sister didn't look too well. I thought she wasn't breathing right, though I didn't want to be a panicky new grandma. My mom had I already been up all night before with the birthing, and we were pooped. After a while of the girl crying I had to call my Mom, even if it was a false alarm. Which unfortunately it wasn't. We tried all kinds of things, from cat cpr to an inhaler. We thought that she was pulling through whatever it was, but the next morning she was panting again, so we took Mama Leonidus and all the kittens to the vet. Turns out Leo wasn't producing milk, and the vet asked us to leave the babies there, emergency status. They had a mama cat there that they were going to try to get the kittens to nurse on, but they were worried they were too weak even to nurse. It was 11 am. The vet said to call around 2:30. At three we were able to talk to the technician, and she said we could come get the kittens, but she needed to go over a lot of things. Right after we got there and were shown to a room, we were told the littlest girl had just died. The tech told us that she'd had many a litter not make it even with bottle feedings and supplements, but she gave Mom and me all the things we'd need to try to keep the last two alive. I really couldn't have done it alone, just the 2 hour feedings would have me on sleep deprivation. Mom took the worst shift, too, the wee hours of the morning. The other girl didn't make it through the first night, and I buried her and her sister together the next day. Lil' dude, though, was a tough booger and he was really hanging in there. Look at that fat belly. His wiry limbs were incredibly strong, and so was his voice when he felt disgruntled. And Leo kept up with the duties she was able to, like washing him. And hiding him. I had to lock her out of my room where he was so she'd stop taking him out of the box with the heating pad; he had to stay warm. When he made it to 7 days I felt like we might not be out of the woods but we had reached a landmark. One week old, another one of those and his eyes would be open, in another he'd be clumsily getting into trouble and exploring the world, eating real food. I've had the pleasure of showing kittens the outdoors for the first time in their lives, and it's never any less exciting for me than it is for them. I couldn't wait to see what he would look like as he matured, having a dwarf persian mom and - I'm assuming- a normal father. What combo would little dude be? Anyway, he died a few hours into his eighth day. Died in my hand, though I begged him not to, and god to not let him. I buried him with his sisters. That's all I can write because my throat is closing painfully and distraction is how I deal with things like this. I just thought I should finish the kittens' story so that when I never mention them again you'll know why. I know we did everything we could but it just hurts.