I have two neutered male cats, Noodles, the Kitty From Outer Space, who we brought with us from Ohio, and Darth Meeps, Lord of the Couch, who was fathered by Noodle before his denutting, born to a neighborhood slattern, and later kitnapped by yours truly.  In exchange for stealing one of her children, I later had the slut spayed and found homes for them all.

Since we moved to this side of town two years ago, we've been building a relationship of sorts with a fluffy, squeaky-voiced, grey and white cat, feral in nature but oddly affectionate to Noodle. (I say 'oddly' due to the fact that he is a eunuch.) 

When she (and until today, i wasn't even sure she was a she) first started coming around, she wouldn't even remain in the yard when any of us (human or canine) went outside, she'd take off running like her tail was on fire and her ass was catching, often sprinting halfway down the block before slowing down to consider the situation.

Sucker that I am, I started putting food and water on the deck, and as cats will do, she soon discovered and took advantage of it.  (So did a Possum we eventually named 'Lazarus', but that's another tale.) 

Slowly, oh so slowly, she allowed her personal perimeters to shrink.  Within a few months she'd remain in the yard when we came out, and a few months after that she took up residence under the deck, where she could also access the crawl space under the house during inclement weather.

She still refused to be approached, and any direct movement towards her resulted in flight, she just didn't run so far away anymore.  I started leaving a window cracked in the back room, devising an improvised cat entry system with a stick and a board, and later moved the food inside, while leaving the door to this room closed. 

Sure enough, she started coming inside to eat, although it took her another months to venture out of the room itself to satisfy her curiosity after satisfying her hunger.

Fast forward to yesterday morning--

This cat, who we usually referred to as 'Greybaby' or 'Miss Thing' (depending on my level of exasperation with her at the moment) eventually got to the point where she'd enter, get within a few feet of me, talk up a storm (with a strange little 'peee-owww' squeak) and, once the dogs learned some respect, would even come to other areas of our small house, usually the kitchen. 

She loved Noodle to death (and he certainly seemed to return her affections) and when he'd be in another room she'd stand in the hall and peeeee-oww for him until her joined her.  They often slept together on the rocking chair here, just three feet from where I'm typing this now.

To say they were cute is an understatement, haha.

Meeps was not so impressed, and used to attack her occasionally, but eventually settled into what seemed a grumpy and begrudging acceptance of her presence.  Being the odd kitty out, he increased his affections towards myself, Simon, and Ceasar.  He'd have bestowed some kitty lovin' on Frankie too, but Frankie would rather rip his throat out, and only refrains because I've forbidden him to do so.

Still, no matter how comfortable she seemed to be here, she never let us touch her.  No way.  Uh-uh. You could stand close enough to stroke her, yes, but the moment you reached  a hand out she'd vamoose, and quick.

Until yesterday, that is.

The night before, we kept hearing kitty commotion, not uncommon when you've got three felines running in and out of the house at will. We call it 'Big Time Kitty Wrestling' as they run and tumble about, dive bombing each other from secret and elevated positions and then rolling around trying to pin each other, all in good fun of course.

Eventually Simon got tired of it and chased them all into the back room and shut the door so they couldn't be galloping all over the place.  They had their room here (a safe haven) and the kitty window to the outdoors, see ya later, ya nuts.

I mentioned it to Him this morning as I was making tea, "What the hell was going on last night?  Miss Thing was making all sorts of racket?"  Simon shrugged, didn't think much more about it.  Then I noticed an odd thing, both of my male cats were in the kitchen begging for kibble.  Usually it's just Meeps, who likes canned Friskies instead of the dry Meow Mix I always made available to them all in the back room.  I'm thinking...hmm, what's Noodle doing in here?

Ut-oh.  Little things I've noticed came flooding back all at once. 

Like the appearance of a couple of stray Toms on the block earlier this year.  They didn't stay long, but they were pretty aggressive, we even tagged one of them as 'The Evil Noodle' because he resembled Noodle in appearance (large, muscular, and yellow) but he was nasty tempered and would hiss and growl and defend whatever patch of ground he was sitting on, even taking a swipe at my ankles from underneath my car a couple of times.

Ut-oh.  Hadn't I just commented to Simon recently that Greybaby was either getting very healthy (ie: fat) or she might be preggers?  I had.  But remember, I didn't even know if this cat was male or female, whether or not it had ever been spayed or neutered, nothing other than my own Noodles loved her and she'd found a place here.

I walked into the back room and sure enough, she was under the end table next to the rocker, in a box half-filled with old newspapers, exhausted and bloody from her hind legs up.  I was alarmed for a few moments because I didn't see any kittens, so I wondered if perhaps

she had gotten injured overnight, or if she was giving birth, had experienced some sort of difficulty or complication. She was quite a mess.

Oh kitty, what to do with you now?  I shut the door to keep the dogs out, sat down to obseve her more closely, and for the first time in her life she didn't make any move to get away from me.  She didn't growl or hiss, either, although she was clearly alarmed.  But she didn't move.

Slowly, slowly now...I reached out a hand and gingerly stroked her back.  She startled but she did not move.  More, speaking softly, stroking her ever so lightly, moving my hand closer to her head to see if she would bite.  This was going better than I'd expected, but I still hadn't determined what her problem was yet.

After a few minutes she relaxed, and as I tried to stroke her chest she opened her legs and rolled over a bit, and there it was, a fuzzy little grey head.  Awwwww.  Ok, now we know what's going on.  But still, she was doing all that peee-owwing many hours ago, she should have been done by now and she was still oozing blood and mucous.  I called the vet and left a message because they weren't open yet.

I spent the next 15 minutes or so just sitting quietly and petting Greybaby for the first time ever.  As she relaxed more, she seemed to want to show off her accomplishment, for she opened all the way up and I saw the other two, both grey and white just like her. 

Three altogether...so far.

I knew they couldn't stay here, I can't keep them safe from the dogs or my asinine neighbor, plus I have enough cats already.  I didn't want her to have the opportunity to move them, either, if they'd survived they'd have been feral too, and she'd have probably taken them under the house.

But I hesitated about moving her in her weakest moment.  She'd finally allowed me to touch her and now I knew I had to traumatize her and take her away from everything she knew here.

Thank god for my cat-loving veterinarian, Dr Nan Jack.  If you're ever in Richmond and need a vet, there's no better care to be had.They agreed to take mamma and babies, and suggested I bring them immediately, even if she were still in the process of birthing.  I was afraid I was going to get my flesh ripped off trying to get them into a cat carrier, but god must have been on our side today because after some more petting and soft talk, she allowed me to take the kittens from her, one after the other, and place them in the carrier.  It was only after I'd removed the last one that she made to move towards them, which is exactly what I wanted.  We had a single tense moment when, halfway into the carrier herself, she seemed to have second thoughts and started to back out.  I patted her rump back in there and she growled like a lioness,  but it was enough to secure the latch with all inside.

We covered the carrier with a blanket and off we went.  As it turns out, the good doctor has an orphaned kitten there now that they hope to introduce to Greybaby, hoping she'll act as a wet nurse, so another life may yet be saved.  And I know that Dr Jack will find good homes for all, fostering them herself until she does.  (Her office is FULL of cats.)

All's well that ends well, but its a bittersweet goodbye for me.  I finally get to touch this cat I've patiently loved and cared for over the past two years trying to tame her,  and it's only to say goodbye.

Fare thee well, Miss Thing.  Noodle will miss you.  And so will I.