This evening, while sitting at my desk writing an email to an old friend, I heard squeeks coming from a box of my dirty sox in the corner of the room where I write. I normally hear an operatic "meeow" from that corner, because a cat who has adopted me sleeps there for much of the day. Curious, I walked over to investigate.

It is dark over there, but I do make out some new faces squirming about in that box. It looks like the cat has given birth, right here in my room.

WOW!!! Isn't that amazing?

What to do? I assume the mother has the situation under control, because she has been a cat all her life and should know what feline maternity demands.

This cat came into my life a couple of months ago. I noticed her hanging around my shack, so I began massaging her neck. She seemed to be one of those good-natured cats who likes people and wants to be friendly. Before long she was coming to visit me several times a day. As our relationship progressed, she began meeowing loudly at my door when she wanted to come in. She has been a regular visitor. By day, she slept on my dirty laundry and smelly socks. At night, she slept on my bed, on my blanket. The blanket was not good enough for her within a short time. She decided she would rather sleep under the covers with me. I did not want her there, so I picked her up and put her back on the blanket. I then woke up in the morning with her body under the covers next to mine, and her head outside, just like my own head. She waited until I fell asleep, knowing that I sleep like a rock, and that she could snuggle up next to me without waking me once she heard me snore. I gave up trying to keep her out - is it so bad to have a sweet female purring next to me in bed?

During these weeks I gave her no food. She is semi-feral, which means she wants to be friendly, but that she is self-supporting. We have a couple of garbage wagons around here. I assume she thinks of them as restaurants. She also catches mice - once in my shack itself, for which I am eternally grateful. When she saw me eating my own rice and veggies, she did not even ask for some - our relationship was purely affectionate, and not culinary.

Now the mother lies there purring industriously and smiling the self-satisfied smile that only a cat can smile. She does not make the impression of having been through some kind of ordeal. I missed the birth itself as I, oblivious, read Petrarca. I just now opened a can of sardines for her - the first food I have ever served her. I held it up to her mouth, so she would not have to leave her kittens to eat it.

Tomorrow light will enter that corner of my shack. I will linvestigate this brood then. I do not wish to disturb the family by shining a spotlight on them. The mother seems calm - calmer than I am.

How interesting it all is! I shall write a daily Kitten and Catscan to chronicle their development.