This evening Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler snuffles out of nearly 200 bales of hay one half-starved calico cat and her brood of kittens. The momma cat coils back between the hay bales and the barn wall, glowering, growling, fur standing on end like a pissed-off porcupine. She is impressive. I depart the barn with Matilda in tow. Lock the too-curious heeler in the chicken yard. Return. Tentatively reach with one hand into the small crevice, expecting a lightning strike of teeth and claws. Instead, the cat lets me scratch her head and replies to my overtures of friendship with a piteous meow, telling me that she is very hungry, please. Her eyes mirror her dilemna. I rush up to the house, making a bee line to the kitchen. Return with one can of Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler food and a bowl of water in tow. Spoon the lamb and rice mixture out onto a pie pan. Sit in the straw and wait. Call "Here, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty..." Out she ventures, one dainty paw after another, crouched low, sniffing. She takes a few tentative bites then carries chunks of the dog food into her den for her kittens.

I haven't had a cat in years. I wonder how she wound up here? A feline refugee. I hope she and her little family stay.

Flickr photo by: himetsunade