Cubby died this morning.
First thing, I want to thank everyone for their kind and encouraging words about Cubby. One thing I know is that every moment of Cubby's life, someone cared about him. There are many cats--and people--about whom you cannot say that. His little body wasn't able to contain his spirit. It's free now and hopefully will find a stronger body next time around--hopefully he will be as loved as he was during this short life.
I knew things weren't going to go well last night when Cubby didn't join in the fight for the best spot at mama's dinner table. He didn't even make an attempt. Marina washed him quite a bit, but when he didn't join in, she tended to her other kittens, which is nature's way. He was quiet the rest of the night, no more of that deep, insistent crying. I suppose that cry got him what he needed--to be taken into a family and given love and comfort. Oh, and he did receive that. The other kittens crowded around him as if he had been with them from the beginning. And Mama Marina (because she has definitely earned that title) chirped at him and sat on him and did all the things mama cats do with their on babies. I take his subsequent silence as a sign that he was comfortable and content, no longer feeling in need.
So I have another kitten for my garden. At this rate, I'm going to have some serious catnip.