Fun fact: Polydactyl cats, most commonly found in eastern North America and the UK, have up to eight toes on each paw versus five on front paws and four on hind paws.
Kiki the cat only had to yowl once for me to know the kittens must be on their way. Missy, my Border Collie-Greyhound mix, followed us into the tiny, downstairs bathroom where I’d prepared a box for the blessed event. Being Kiki’s first litter, I expected her to be nervous. What I didn’t expect was Missy’s furious whining and tail wagging.
When the kittens finally started coming, the dog calmed down. Missy and I just sat there marveling at the miracle of birth. The dog appeared mesmerized by the six tiny fur balls. And her fascination didn’t end there.
The following morning I awoke to something warm and sticky on my neck. Missy had brought the kittens upstairs to me. Kiki hovered nearby, but didn’t seem to object. That wasn’t the last time Missy transferred the kittens to my bed. She wouldn’t leave those babies alone! And, of course, she always snatched them up when I wasn’t looking. “Bad dog!” I kept saying. But she didn’t care.
When the kittens were a little older, all six of them, Kiki, Missy, my husband and I sloshed around on our waterbed every night. During the day, Missy continued carrying the kittens around by the nape of the neck, often hiding them behind the couch. Sometimes she’d deposit them near the sliding doors in the sun so they’d be warm and cozy. And, of course, she kept placing them on the bed for the afternoon nap she took with them.
Then Missy did the unthinkable. She stretched out on the living room carpet more than once, and then nosed the kittens into her belly. She made believe they were nursing! She did this time and again, always panting as if nursing was hard work. Apparently, Missy felt the kittens belonged to her. And they might as well have! She continuously snatched them from their bewildered mom. We sometimes feared she might hurt them, but she never did.
Missy was a loving dog in other ways too. She was a real nurturer, tuned in emotionally to anyone around her. A grief group convened at my home regularly and Missy got to know the women well. Once, when one of them burst into tears, Missy quickly reached her side, and licked her tears away. She then put her head in the woman’s lap.
Eventually, we found homes for all but one kitten, Missy’s favorite, whose name was Paws. He was a polydactyl like his mother. Missy continued to carry Paws around in her mouth even as he grew larger.
When Paws disappeared, we looked everywhere. During the first few days of his absence, Missy whined and spent her time in the tiny, downstairs bathroom where she’d watched Paws come into the world. But when he didn’t turn up, she eventually dealt with her grief and re-directed her efforts toward terrorizing Kiki.
We never had more kittens, but sometimes I asked my husband, “Do you think we should let Missy have her own litter?”
“No. I think this was her first and last mothering experience!” was his response.
And so it was. But it endeared her that much more to me.
~Jill Davis
