Driving with all the windows down, the radio playing loudly, is my favorite type of driving. I know people look at the "old lady" driving hell-bent up the Interstate and say,"look at that old-fart, reliving her childhood!" Not really, I just hate AC in the car, even when the temp hits one hundred, I love music and speed, yes I love speed! Around these parts you have state troopers and sheriff department deputies. Double indemnity! Last night, as I was driving home at two in the morning, it was a chilly fifty six degrees, but I had the windows open and the heat on! No music though, just letting my mind wander through the day...."did I learn something today?", "Did I make a difference?", "Am I happy and did I make someone happy?" Affirmative to all the above. As I approached the entrance to my community, I noticed the security gate opened,the guard just opening the door to welcome me. "A little late tonight aren't you there Missy?" he questioned. First of all the name is Diane, you old fart,(probably at least eighty), second you're not my keeper, just the gate keeper. Why is the G-damn gate open? "Stuck" was the pissed off reply. "Can't ride around the neighborhood tonight, gotta stay in the guard-house, let everyone know the gate is stuck. I wouldn't want any undesirables to get through Ma'am." Well at least he noticed I wasn't a Missy, he's back on track with the Ma'am thing, but I really wanted to tell him..How the F%#K do you think YOU are going to stop any undesirables? My God he doesn't even realize a strong wind is going to blow him over! Oops, sorry about going off on a tangent!
As I drove around the corner, lots of little peering eyes, glowing in the dark were visible. The little feral cats are back. They really are adorable as they romp around in the darkness. They almost seem to follow to point...then in flash, off into the woods. I know I have mentioned before that the building closest to Fred's News was often called "LaPere Estates" after its owner. More often than not, this building was home to what my skinny friend at the gate my call...undesirables. Much like the feral cats, as quick as they arrived in the neighborhood...GONE again! Unfortunately along with loads of crap, many times they left a pet. At Fred's, feral cats were the norm. One warm late Autumn afternoon, Bill and I were finishing the days chores. As we locked up the back door of Fred's News, momma cat and two adorable babies approached the ramp leading up to the dock. We watched, not wanting to frighten her, she obviously had reasons for bringing the babies so close. She looked famished, the babies gaunt with beautiful large green eyes. Egg-Nazi, back into Fred's..tuna and milk. Momma ate feverishly then coaxed her children. Oh no, friends for life. We watched and enjoyed for weeks but they never let you touch them. Early one morning, a young girl living in one of Lapere Estates apartments, ran to us crying. She too had been watching the babies, her greatest fear now a reality. Only momma cat survived the night, her precious kittens ventured to far into the road. Bill, our young friend and myself gave the kittens a proper burial, momma cat no where to be seen. A few days later we heard the heartbreaking sounds of momma cat. As she came onto the loading dock, she wound herself between our legs. This was her first touch with the humans who had helped her. She stayed with us until winter, when we noticed she was getting fatter. Todd had made her a little cat house which we kept on the porch. I filled it with blankets and the next day in sub-zero weather, two very tiny babies entered this cold and barren January climate. We fed them, covered the little house with more blankets and four weeks later, we were rewarded with our first glance. Momma was so proud, she let us hold them, cuddle them but always with a watchful eye. As they grew, we put a gate across the step, only momma cat could cross. As Spring approached, we knew it was time for a move. We'd miss them but West Main Street was no place for youngsters to romp. Justin and Arthur Spielman graciously agreed, Spielman Farm was just they place for the young family to move. They would share the barn with the cows and other feral cats, but more importantly they were now safe.
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