So yesterday early evening, I got a call from a lady at the cat rescue i sometimes work with. A man had come into the store while they were doing adoptions, said he found two newborn kittens under his truck. One of them had already died, and he was asking about what to do. So I told him to bring the kitten to the store, and I'd meet him there, and take it. When he got there with the kitten, the poor thing was soaking wet and ice cold, weak and thin, and completely covered in fly eggs. I've been doing this for years, and I've never seen anything that bad before. I honestly didn't expect him to survive the trip home, I was surprised he was even still alive at that point. So I handed my keys to my SIL, who I was with when I got the call, and had her drive home while I worked on drying off the little guy. I had brought a sock filled with rice that had been microwaved to keep him warm on the way home. Got him home, used a flea comb to remove the majority of the fly eggs while drying him off. By the time he was warm and dry, he was starting to move around a bit, and was making sucky faces, so I offered some formula in an eye dropper. Through the night, I made sure he was warm, offered food. he seemed to be doing pretty well, even urinating and defecating when stimulated, all good signs. This morning, he was crying a bit, so I picked him up, stimulated him to potty, and there was blood in his urine. His kidneys were failing. then he just went downhill, and stopped breathing. At least he was warm and comfortable when he passed, he didn't look like he was suffering. There's some comfort in that. I knew from the beginning that the chances of him surviving were slim, that things would be touch and go for several days, and that the goal was to keep him comfortable above anything else. Its just hard. Over the years, I've taken in countless orphans. In that time, I've only had one newborn survive. She was still warm when she was found and brought in, while the others had all gotten cold. Its just so hard, their tiny bodies can't handle being cold, their organs shut down. The only thing there is to do is get them warmed up and hope that there wasn't much damage done. I wish this story had a happy ending. Even though I've gotten a bit desensitized over the years, there's always a glimmer of hope that i'll get to see each baby grow up, open their eyes, run around and play, and its always upsetting when that doesn't happen. Its just hard to know that I'd done everything I could, and it wasn't enough.