One of the beautiful baby kittens, a boy I have named Elijah, crossed to the Bridge last night. I guess he was just too small.
I buried him today in our back garden, wrapped in an embroidery I had been working on that was about love. I got him a Marty Mouse of his own, and some cat grass to take with him to the Bridge.
Now I am nervous about the others. At the moment, they seem to be ok. However, I think mumcat (who we have nearly decided will be named Stella) is still young herself, and she doesn't seem to be particularly attentive. I have formula and feeding supplies, and will just have to keep a close eye on them.
While I have had other fosters that have died, I had never actually seen them after they had passed. Seeing Elijah was like seeing the other five with him, and came as a real shock. It is something I pray I don't see again.