My cat family lived contentedly outside. The only times we touched were when Mama Kitty cautiously rubbed her furry back against my leg. She trusted me to feed her and her offspring, now longer than she is, but not nearly so rolly polly. I guess she ate as often as she could get me to…

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During frequent downpours in our rainy mountain valley, the cat family stayed dry. Mama Cat moved them from patio to under the house when they turned six weeks old. They were safer there, sleeping on top of boogie boards and ice chests and Barry’s and my cardboard boxes. I’m glad this is Mama Cat’s last…

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Part 3 Before the cats appeared, I’d hung a bird feeder in a Madagascar Dragon Tree. This changed the ecology of the down-sloping backyard overflowing with strawberry guava, tangerine and banana trees, ferns, and anthurium plants (which my mom used to call “little boy flowers”). Dozens of rice birds, cardinals, and a few wild green parrots…

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Part 2 On a cool February morning three and a half years ago, I carried a bucket of towels and T-shirts to hang on the rope clothesline spanning the length of the patio. Hearing a rustling sound, I looked down. Wedged between the wheelchair and a chair protected by a plastic mattress cover, three baby…

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Part 1 In 2016, three emaciated cats that were barely bigger than kittens hunted geckos and rats under million dollar homes on this quiet mountain street. They optimistically raced up trees, trying to catch birds perched in shade trees in the overgrown backyard of the sixty year old house where my fiancé Barry and I…

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