Sweetheart

“Oh God! I’m so hungry! I’m so afraid! I have to take care of myself if I want to have my babies live but how can I do that? I’m so hungry! I’m so afraid!”

She was frantic. Living on the streets by herself had been difficult. During her first heat at only six months of age, she had gotten pregnant. Now she had four kittens to take care of. Finding enough food for herself had been a challenge, now her needs were so much greater.

Every day she went out to scrounge for whatever she could find, usually only garbage and not nearly enough. She followed a regular route that had produced enough food for her to subsist on but more was needed now. She was losing weight as her babies suckled and grew. Nighttime was easier for her to go out because that’s when people put their garbage out for pickup the next morning. There was less traffic and fewer dogs for her to worry about as well.

One night, the pickings were slim so she decided to venture down a street she had not explored before. She stayed in the shadows, careful to keep a low profile. As she passed a large wooden garage door, the sweet smell of a bag of garbage wafted through a small window in the door. The opening was only about ten by seven inches, designed for meter readers. It was just the right size for a hungry cat to squeeze through. She carefully peeked in to look for a dog. When she didn’t detect sign or scent of one – she crept in. The small garden was green with trees and shrubs where a dog could hide, but she was alone. She crouched on her belly, and let her nose guide her, following the tantalizing smell to the garbage bag. Salivating, she tore open the bag with teeth and claws and grabbed what she could. Squeezing back through the opening, checking left and right for any vicious street dogs, the young mother hurried back to her well hidden babies.

The following morning we found the torn bag, garbage strewn about. We deduced it could only have been a cat and the only way we could see for a cat to get in was through that little window in the garage door.

In the early hours, just as the sun came up the next day, the mama cat returned to the house where she had found the nice bag of garbage. Unfortunately the bag was gone, but she found the garden to be peaceful and decided to explore a little. She sniffed the bushes, the papaya tree, the coffee tree and many other plants. Suddenly the kitchen door creaked open. Scared out of her wits she bolted for the little window. I stood in the doorway amazed to see the colorful streak of a cat disappear through the little window.

I’m an animal lover, with a big heart for all of God’s creatures, big and small, but especially cats. My heart went out for this obviously hungry cat. There were far too many homeless and owner-less cats roaming the streets in our little city in the Southern Sierra of Ecuador. I decided right away to put down some dry cat food and water. I hoped I hadn’t scared the cat off for good and that it would come back. Deep down I visualized being able to eventually adopt this cat.

That night, following her gut feeling that this place was good, the little mama cat returned hoping to find another nice garbage bag to rummage through. To her surprise when she found a bowl of food and water waiting for her instead. She wolfed it down, not leaving so much as a crumb. Early the next morning I was so happy to see that the cat had returned and eaten all the food. Right away, I refilled the bowls. This continued for several days.

Then one morning I looked out the kitchen window to see a cat hunched over the food bowl, eating with gusto. Calico and white, the cat was beautiful, but seemed really thin. Not in the least surprising since all of the street cats were scrawny. I tried to open the kitchen door but the cat heard the noise and once again bolted.

From then on, every night I put down food, water and a few table scraps as a treat. The cat appeared every morning. I was delighted to watch it from the window in the kitchen door. The cat watched me too, cautiously taking a bite of food, then looking up, ready to run if need be. After several days of this routine, I once more quietly opened the door. Frightened, the cat bolted again.

I knew that the cat was hungry. I was patient and hopeful. Finally I was able to stand in the open doorway while it ate, always alert and watching for any sudden movement. Softly, I began to talk to the cat, speaking quietly while taking slow steps toward it. Each day I found I could get a little closer.

She decided that this lady really didn’t mean her any harm. After all, she could smell the lady’s scent on the food bowl. Step by step, I continued to venture a little closer.

Then one morning, nearly three weeks after first seeing the cat, I stooped down and ever so gently touched the cat’s head. It let me continue to gently pet it while it gobbled up the food. From that morning on I was able to pet the cat even when it wasn’t eating. I was more and more hopeful it might stay.

By now the cat seemed to look forward to seeing me and being petted. It would even rub up against my legs. It would stay awhile and then disappear, only to show up again the next morning. For the first time in her short life she felt safe. Her intuition was telling her that this might be a good place for her kittens. 

One morning, my husband shouted to me from the kitchen, “The cat is back – with a kitten!” She had brought the first one to the yard to see how we would react. I ran downstairs to see. We now knew for sure the cat was a female. That settled it – we called her Sweetheart. After a couple of hours, Sweetheart disappeared. She was gone for quite some time, leaving the lone kitten by itself. I figured she had gone to get another one. Much to our surprise, Sweetheart returned, not with just one but three more, for a total of four kittens. They all looked alike – orange tabbies.

We guesstimated the kittens were already about six weeks old because they were easily able to crunch down the dry food, although they still nursed some as well. These little kitties were wild and afraid of us; they hissed and batted at us whenever we tried to touch them. Even though we had made a comfy box for them, they preferred to hide under the bushes in the garden. Then one day, Sweetheart went out, taking one kitten with her. She was gone most of the day and returned alone. She repeated this the next three days until all of the kittens were gone. Where she took them remains a mystery. I still regret that I didn’t try harder to socialize those babies and find them homes.

Sweetheart hung around for several more days after the last kitten was gone. She relaxed in the yard and enjoyed our attention. Then, she was gone too. I kept the food and water bowls filled and hoped she would come back - but I had my doubts when she didn’t return to eat.

Two weeks later, much to my delight, Sweetheart came back. She looked as skinny as the first time we saw her; but with regular food, she quickly began to fill out again. But then she continues to fill out even more, Sweetheart – the little hussy – was pregnant again – for the second time within the first year of her life. But now she felt content and safe – she was home. 

Sweetheart was glad she had followed her intuition, which had been right. She knew this would be the perfect place for her new litter of kittens too. Now she just had to decide where to have them. As her time grew closer, we watched carefully to see where she might be trying to nest. After several false starts, Sweetheart finally decided on the bottom drawer of a cabinet in the laundry room. Every morning I ran downstairs to see if the kittens had arrived. Waiting was as difficult for me as it was for Sweetheart – who by now was as broad as a barn. 

One evening, my husband and I decided to go out for dinner. When we returned a few hours later, two kittens had already been born. I could tell there were more to come. Sweetheart continued to labor throughout the night. About every three hours, she gave birth to another baby. Early the following morning, the fourth kitten slipped into the cabinet drawer. Sweetheart was exhausted. 

I had put food and water in the drawer for her before going to bed in the wee hours of the morning; it didn’t appear that she had touched either. She was busy with her new babies. The way she held her tail I suspected she wasn’t finished yet. So I tried a bit of plain yogurt, a treat she enjoyed during her pregnancy. Without moving or disturbing her nursing kittens, Sweetheart lapped up the yogurt when I placed the bowl right next to her. Finally, at about nine o’clock in the morning, the fifth – and last – kitten arrived.

The babies grew rapidly as all kittens do. They played tag with each other in the garden. They learned to climb up my pants legs. They discovered that the dust pan, broom and mop made great toys. They all had different, distinct looks. There was one ginger kitten, the only girl, later called Kitty; a light beige and white tuxedo marked kitten, who would be named Yappy (Kichwa for cat). These two became world travelers. They went to live with Lottie who doted on them until the day she died. They now live with Lottie’s best friend in Canada. Then there was a dark gray/black tabby who would be called Kahlua. The next one, named Curry, was orange and white. Kahlua and Curry went to live with Bernie and Samantha in the country. That left one kitten, a black and white tuxedo marked kitten. His name is Rascal and stayed with his mother and us. 

So – who adopted whom? It’s not important. What is important is that Sweetheart followed her heart and intuition. Now Sweetheart and her kittens all have loving fur-ever homes.