She was a big, sweet, gray tabby of a female cat; in for annual examination and vaccines. I noticed the name on the record—Mama Kitty—as I walked in the exam room and asked Meg (the owner) if there was a story behind the name. “Funny you should ask” she said . . .
5 years prior, right about this time of the year, Meg was up early on a chilly Colorado morning, getting ready to go to work. She heard some noise on the front porch; when she opened the door to investigate, this grey cat put her tail up in the air and walked right in as if she owned the place. A bit perplexed, Meg followed the meows into the kitchen, where the cat waited for her expectantly. A bit of tuna in a saucer seemed appropriate; so she got it ready, then led the cat back to her “mud room” to eat.
Leaving the cat alone with her meal, Meg went about getting ready for work at the other end of the house. When she returned to the mud room, the bowl was empty . . . and the cat was nowhere to be found. A search around the house proved fruitless. Meg headed back to the pick up the saucer, noticed a partially open bottom dresser drawer in the corner of the room—and pulled it open to find one Mama Kitty” and her 4 newborn kittens on some “fluffed up” old towels.
Meg was a bit late to work that day; later found homes for the 4 kittens, and Mama Kitty had a home for life. I figure the cat waited for the first light in the neighborhood to come on, made her presence apparent, and then “improvised” once she got into the nice, warm house.
During the Depression, “hobos” would leave clever signs outside of homes where the owners were known to give out “handouts” to down on their luck travelers. I am strongly suspicious that cats somehow do the same . . . leaving “encrypted” signs that translate somewhere along the lines of . . . “good person inside; needs a cat to improve his/her life”!