Mao-Mao Part I

I am a dog person. I've always owned dogs and, if I have it my way, always will. Dogs are whip smart, love you unconditionally, are loyal to a fault, and care whether you live or die. Cats are annoying, sneaky, irreverent, and if you are hanging off the edge of a cliff on the precipice of death, may - just may - wander over to see if you've fallen yet. I don't hate cats, I just prefer dogs. No cats! No, no no. And now, I am a cat owner. *sigh* Okay, here's the deal. Around October, the library staff at work noticed a tail-less gray cat and her two kittens (one fluffy gray and the other deep black, but all with bright gold-yellow eyes) hanging around behind the library, hiding under the shed in the back. We were compelled to do, what all animal lovers do, that is, we ran out and bought cat food and crowded by the window to watch them wander out and eat from chipped workroom dishes. Being the aforementioned "Non Cat Person," I participated in the care of the little family, scolded other staff members for forgetting to put out water and kibbles on my off days, and watched from the window during my lunch hour but tried to remain detached. More involved staff members bought kitty toys, tuna fish and spent their lunch hours sitting outside by the shed hoping to lure the kittens out. Mama Cat glared at us through the window, daring us to make a move toward her babies, who delighted us with kitten play. Our library family was drawn together; united toward the care of this little trio. Unfortunately, our worst fears were realized when Mama Cat disappeared, perhaps struck by a car in the traffic that raced alongside our building. Now our concern for the kittens was magnified and we redoubled our efforts to capture them before the weather got cold. Gray was captured in November and adopted by one of us, which left Black alone under the shed and became the focus of our efforts. Only in Texas can you say, "I need to catch a cat" and have six people step forward and offer traps. Traps...eek. The first few tries ended in disaster, with the capture of a nasty, snarling possum and then a huge black adult cat that I dubbed "Lucifer" due to its evil glare from the cage. Where was Black kitty and was she okay? I, the self-professed non Cat Person, went home worried every night. Finally, with the aid of a co-worker's determined dad, who showed up almost daily with traps, small cups of mystery meat and dressed in camouflage, kitty was captured! But now what? Gray kitty's new owner couldn't take in another and no one else was interested. Finally the decision to take her to a shelter (with dubious hopes that she would be adopted) was made and off she went. The right thing to do, certainly. But after all these weeks of worrying and watching, the emptiness was palpable. The library staff turned away from the window and went back to work. (Part 2 to follow)