Wilding Stories: Tarp Babies

Tarp Babies- Natalie, Blair, Natalie, and Chuck

The Tarp Babies: How Four Tiny Lives Changed Mine Forever

Scrolling through Facebook one day, I saw a post in Missouri Paws from a woman named Christine D. in St. Louis. She had just found four newborn kittens abandoned inside a tarp on her way to work.

I watched for a while to see if anyone else could help, but I knew time was critical. Finally, I commented that I could take them. Christine’s family, who had neonatal experience, cared for them until that Sunday when her daughter drove them to Independence on her way back to college. The Dawon family’s devotion during those first few fragile days gave those babies the chance they needed.

From that moment on, they became my little tagalongs, my lunch dates, my shadows. They absolutely captured my heart.

One in particular became the love of my life—Maple. Christina and her family adopted Natalie, while Serena and Chuck found amazing homes that filled me with peace, knowing they would always be loved.

But still, I couldn’t stop wondering: How could someone leave them like that? Where their lives so invalid to someone that they could just dump them? Or did something happen to their momma and she couldn’t come back?

Maple has been my answer to that question. Her life would bring happiness to those around her and she did matter. One tiny neonate, one rescue and one caring individual matters. She reminds me of this daily. She kisses me unexpectedly, cuddles closer than most cats ever do, and purrs with a warmth that seems endless. She has more affection than I had ever seen in a female (or male) cat.

When I tell adopters that bottle babies are different, it can sound vague. But the truth is, the bond is almost indescribable. From the moment they open their eyes, they know it was a two-legged “bald cat” who kept them alive, who bottle-fed them, who became their mama. And they repay that love one hundredfold.

It was this very litter—the tarp babies—that changed everything for me. They shifted me from being content just to foster into wanting something bigger. They inspired me to create Wildwood, not for myself, but for babies like them.

Christine once called me an angel. But to me, the angel was her—the one who didn’t turn a blind eye, who stopped, who acted. Without her, there would be no Maple. There may never have been Wildwood.

I will always be thankful to the Dawon family for trusting me with those four lives, for driving all the way from St. Louis, and for helping me dream bigger. Because of them, Maple will always be here—proof that love can grow even from a tarp.