Seven swans a-swimming

OK, they're not exactly swans and they certainly aren't swimming, but I'm reasonably sure there a seven of them even though the Prodigal Son only reported six when he woke me this morning to tell me Izzy had popped. He also noted that things must not have been too bad for Izzy 'cause he didn't wake up while she was delivering. That really isn't saying much since he wouldn't have noticed unless she'd planted all four feet's worth of claws in his chest and bitten his nose off. And, yes, those are the Prodigal's now ruined shirts and towel on the floor of the closet where Izzy decided to deliver instead of the nice snug box the Prodigal made up for her.

Most of the kittens take after their momma and are, to varying degrees, black and white. There does appear to be a grey tabby with at least one white paw in the bunch. I haven't really disturbed momma and babies much except to prod at the babies to make sure they were all alive and well and to snap this first set of pictures. Later today I'll replace the bloody mess of clothes with clean dry newspaper and toweling which I shall have to run out and get.

Izzy seems to have taken to mothering despite being a very anti-social cat. She was not very well socialized, to either humans or fellow felines, which I blame on her former owner, the girl who should not be allowed to own an animal of any kind . . . EVER. Izzy and Horus are both her cast offs.

Oh, well, enough blather. Take a gander at the new additions to the household . . .