The Calico

I have been feeding a new little feral cat family that has been hanging out in my yard. There's a mama and three babies, all adorable. They are feral, so they don't get close enough to let me pet them, but they do let me hang out on the front porch with them. They keep their distance, but they are comfortable romping around, eating, and sitting in my general vicinity. The babies are probably five or six months old now. I've been trying to get them to warm up to me so that I can bring them inside -- not that I need any more cats in the house, but they are so cute and so sweet, and I want them to have a nice home. They don't last very long outside.

The most adorable baby was a long-haired calico with snowy-white fur that had grey and pumpkin-colored splotches. One of the prettiest cats I've ever seen, and very sweet. She was the bravest one and would almost get close enough to me so that I could pet her. She'd mew at me and sit and watch me with a quizzical look on her sweet little face. Two Thursdays ago, she showed up for breakfast as usual. When I got home from work that day, I walked across the street to check the mail. On my way back, I saw her lying dead on the side of the street.

I called my vet's office and asked if I could bring her in to be cremated, and they said yes -- thank goodness, because it's nearly impossible to dig a hole in my back yard -- too much rock -- and I wasn't about to just leave her on the side of the road like that. I cried all night long, and off and on for the next week.

Her two little siblings are still hanging around, and their mama still comes at feeding time. I'm still hoping to get them to come inside.