The repeated cries got ever louder and more ear piercing as we came upon a large cardboard box filled with tiny, screaming, furry two week old kittens. A dish of milk had been left in the bottom of the box, but being only two weeks old, the poor babies had no idea what to do with it other than climb over it in their frantic effort to escape the box that was keeping them from their mom. Unfortunately, mom was nowhere in sight.
Well, we COULDN'T leave them there to die! These little kids barely had their eyes open, and they clamored up my lap to find anything to eat. Eventually, I poured some of the milk into my hand and they sucked it out from the crevices in between my fingers.
We toted them all home in a laundry basket
, still screaming. Jim went in search of baby bottles and when he returned, we fed
, and fed
, and fed
them until their little bellies looked like bowling balls and they fell sound asleep. They awoke about every two hours or so for another feeding and would actually hang on to the bottle clawing and scratching with their needle sharp claws and drink. The smallest one, the little girl, didn't even really know how to suckle. We had to hold the bottle in her mouth and squeeze and she would swallow on cue.
They were so dehydrated and hungry, It took them about 18 hours before they started to wee wee and about a day and a half to poop. (Great celebrations on poop day!!) (Crawled right into their little potty box as if they'd been trained.)
We put them to bed in a kitty carrier because it was dark and confined and quiet. They were very happy in their new home in Jim's upstairs bathroom. As they progressed in size and ability, they graduated to the bathroom and the dressing room.
They slept with their "fake mom"
, a stuffed kitty that Stealth used to play with. After a while, they got big enough to start banging on the door of the bathroom to be let out, so they got the run of the bedroom
. They learned to run and jump and climb. Oh, boy! They discovered they could climb up into Jim's dresser drawers from underneath and sleep on his clothes. When we would come in the room, they would bonk-de-bonk-bonkety-bonk and tumble out onto the floor like Cokes coming out of a machine. When they started getting large enough to take care of themselves, they began to venture out of the bedroom on short jaunts
and eventually, we let them have the run of the house.
It was hard on the three older kitties for a while, but they got used to it and actually have become very well adjusted. Missy, the certified nutcase on the other page, actually acts like an aunt and dotes on them and watches over them when they are outside.
Already having three cats to take care of, we attempted numerous times to find good homes for these babies. Our vet warned us we needed to do it quickly, as the longer you wait, the harder it becomes to separate yourself from them. Well, needless to say, we waited too long. The shelters were all full and would not take the litter. No one we knew wanted a kitten. Friends had just adopted two foundlings from the woods at the end of their street and they also already had two grown cats in the house. Every time we found someone to take them, they did not think us visiting them was such a good idea, so they'd get a earful of phone, mom would cry for a while and we'd go on along loving our seven kitties.
The largest and loudest was the little black and white tuxedo kitten. In the beginning, he had a sort of Buffalo/Bowling ball looking head.
Fortunately, his head is now more properly proportioned to his body. With the help of a friend, we named him Charles, mostly due to a little white Charlie Chaplin mustache he sports on his upper lip.
It was his cry that you could hear a mile away when they had been abandoned. From the start, Charles has been in charge. He has always been the smartest and the most physically advanced of the four. Charles is always the first to do anything. He is the most analytical cat I have met in a long time. He can figure out how to get into, on, over, under, around and out of almost anything or any place on the planet. 
We returned home one evening to find that he had emptied the entire contents of a kitchen napkin drawer onto the floor and into the kitty water bowl.
We locked the kitty door one time so the little ones could not go out on the porch at night. Well, that evening, you could hear Charles over by the door, in the dark, working the lock with his little fingers until, "snap", he got it undone and went out the door and onto the porch.
He can balance on the thinnest rail with ease. He has been caught on top of the door, on top of the shower stall (see above), and tight roping the round bar we put out on the porch to dry clothing, (see below)
He amazes us daily and we are never surprised.
When it is time for bed in the evening, he will come get you and yell "Braaaaaaaack" at you until you go upstairs with him and go to bed. When he sleeps with you, he is never in the way. He sleeps down by your legs, but still allows you to roll over. He just rides the "waves" of the blanket. He will typically sleep all night long and want out in the morning, unlike the others who want in and out ALL NIGHT LONG.
Next in line is Tiger. He is the largest physically. He ate the most when being bottle fed and always came back for more.
He would grab and scratch at the bottle to the point we almost had to wear gloves at feeding time.
A silver tabby, Tiger is the gentle giant of the household. With a purr like a freight train, and a body to match, and he can awaken you from a deep sleep without any trouble. He is not malicious about it, though. He just wants to love on you a little and then go back to sleep. He just doesn't realize he weighs 17 pounds.
Tiger is also the retriever of the house. If you choose a particularly rattle-y mousie from the toy basket and throw it, there will be a thunder of cat feet rumbling after the projectile. Within seconds, he is bringing you the mousie to throw again. This has been known to continue for most of an evening. He is not particularly the smartest or most agile kitty in the house, but he more than makes up for it with pure love.
Meep is the middle child of the bunch. He has the color and markings of a grey Siberian Forest Cat,
complete with long tufts of fur between the pads on his feet.
When he was learning to eat real kitty food, he would assume a "catcher's stance" with his rear legs splayed out widely in back.
He used this position to give himself a base from which to push over into the other kitties' area of food on the communal feeding plate.
He is named after the sound he would make when we would go in the room to feed them. He would not run into the feeding area with the others, but hang back and "meep" at us and hold his hands up to be picked up. Now, weighing 15 pounds, he still does this today and would rather be toted around like a baby than eat. 
He loves people, no matter who they are. He will happily approach anyone who comes in the door, whether they be friend or complete stranger. He even gets along with the vet. When he was getting "fixed", the vet gave him a sleepy shot and instead of going to sleep, meep crawled up on the vet's back and started talking to him. He likes to stay out late at night and roam, but he always comes in around 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning and finds himself a secret spot to sleep the rest of the day.
Sissy was the runt of the bunch and the only girl. She was right on death's door when we found them. Her eyes were barely open and she was almost unable to hold her head up. Like we said before, she did not know how to suckle and we had to basically force feed her with the bottle. She has progressed nicely since that time and now weighs a whopping 13 pounds. 
She has the markings and very long coat of a true Siberian Forest Cat. She sports beautiful "make-up" around the eyes and face, calico colored stripes and a lions mane that frames her always smiling face. She is partial to sleeping in the bathroom sink, and has a standing appointment with her dad for drinking water out of the bathroom sink and for a daily brushing in the computer chair. She's the only cat we've ever seen that actually smiles at you when she's happy.
We have been told by strangers that these are the most loving cats they have ever met. We believe that it is merely because they had no true kitty mom, and were raised from the beginning by humans who treated them with love and respect. We gave them alot of love in the early days (and still do) and this love is reflected in their behavior today as adult kitties. It's true, they wrestle and play and chase and chew on each other, but it is without malicious content. They are merely playing and exercising the way all cats, large and small, do. These cats ask for nothing but love and a little cat food and some attention now and then. In return, they give unconditional love, without judgement. Something we'd all like to have.