It's been a long uphill battle. The kittens are very weak and frail. Their eyes have opened, but this little boy's eyes crust shut they are so runny. His brother is sneezing. I've been feeding them every 4-5 hours, day and night. There were three males and one female, but I lost her this morning. She looked just like this male, but with big round eyes. She was the smallest and weakest--she would lay in one spot while her brothers crawled around looking for me/milk. I want to remember her here. Even though we are not a kill shelter, it is still taboo to talk about our losses. I had fed them at 1am, and then they woke me up again at 6am. I fed her with a syringe, she wasn't eating from the bottle very well. But she had a bowel movement and I took that as a good sign. I went in there again at 8:30 and knew something was wrong. It looked like she had spit up yellow bile. I knew her best chance was to get her to eat so I tried to feed her. She spat it up, still yellow. I could see her getting weak, so I tried to comfort her until she was gone. All I can so is try to keep her brothers from the same fate. They climb all over me demanding milk, which gives me hope, and I check on them every two hours if I can. I know she survived longer than she would have at the shelter, but I still feel so sad that I couldn't save her.