My boyfriend worked in an alfalfa field and grinder for natural vitamins, so he was always covered with a fine powder that was hard as heck to get rid of and he had to take off his work clothes before coming in the house.

Then I would go get them to wash, always cleaning out the pockets first.

So one day, I'm going through his pockets and there's something *furry* in the pocket! Couldn't ask him what it was because he was in the shower with the door locked.

Gathering my courage, I reached back in and grasped the furry thing to remove it from the pocket.

OMG! It was a teensy-tiny kitten! Not even as big as a pack of cigarettes hardly! It was all black, it's eyes weren't even open. I felt it couldn't be more than 24 hours old, and either starving near death, or in shock.

So I put it in a baby blanket to warm up, inside my shirt and found a medicine dropper, that I sterilized as best I could. Put a little milk on the stove to warm and tried to get the kitten to respond.

Finally, it started stirring around inside the blanket and I heard the tiniest little whimper ever, guess it was trying to meow. So I opened it's tiny little mouth and put the tip of the dropper in and squeezed out a little drop of milk.

It choked and sneezed and I wondered what the heck I could do next. Tried a little more milk, this time it swallowed and started squirming around trying to find more. I fed it about 1/2 a teaspoonful, and it's little tummy felt hard and round.

Next, I decided to wash it off, it was covered with all the ground alfalfa powder. As I washed it's little behind, it urinated, so I realized it would need some stimulation to have any evacuation.

That was the first day and evening, and I was discovering a whole new addiction, trying to keep this little thing alive. I had cats all my life but was never intimately involved in the biology and raising before.

My boyfriend laughed when I told him how the fur in his pocket freaked me out. He said there were three babies in the field and no Mother, so he and two friends each took one home.

Next day, I talked to a vet, he told me about using a mild boric acid mixed with warm water dabbed on when it started trying to open it's eyes so they wouldn't get infected.

I hadn't worried about it's sex or named it because I didn't want to get too attached only to lose it, but after a week or so, it was too late. I was in love and the kitten was firmly planted in my heart!

*IT* was a girl, and I named her Gillian Lissette because she was so tiny and feminine-feeling. I was definitely MOMMY and whenever she couldn't see me, she would cry and panic, and when I picked her up she would immediately climb up under my hair to my neck and *nest*, purring and sighing happily.

Time went by and she grew andblossomed. She would look at me so lovinglyand trustfully with startlinglyGreen eyes, like emeralds.

The first time she *went into heat*, I didn't know what that was either, we both learned though, when she started putting on weight and had a little barrel for a tummy. Her labor started and she panicked again and I had to be with her every minute while she was having her babies! It took several hours actually, from about midnight to 6 a.m. We were both worn out, so all of us were in bed!

This is really long, so it will be part I. Part 2 will be later today, probably.