I'm a cat. Undomesticated. Some would call me wild. Okay, so I'm a feral cat.
I have no name. The humans who I've adopted--well, sort of--call me "Kitty" and that's fine. I like the man, it's the woman I don't trust so much. At least he has fur on his face like me.
So, to begin with, I came around their yard early June, starving and pregnant. Again, but then I'm female, and I've been through this before. These feet have traveled far and wide. The humans took pity on me. Odd how they did not chase me away like so many others have done. They fed me. First it was scraps from their meals, which is fine. (I have eaten from garbage before, I've eaten road kill too, as well as my own kills, but I'll get back to that.) Then I believe it was tuna from a can. I'm not finicky. I've gone hungry way too much to care one way or another. A meal is a meal.
So, I was then given some kibble. I've eaten kibble from other domesticated cat's dishes before. This wasn't bad. You domesticated ones don't know how good you got it. Warm place to sleep, food until you burst. But don't get me wrong, I like my life. I come and go as I please, no one to answer to, sleep under the stars, and if I feel like taking off for some reason, I will.
My pregnancy went alright. Had five little ones. All but one looked similar to me--tiger stripes, at least one had the feral buff of my coat. But my first born, he was different. He had odd markings on the face, back legs almost completely white, and very dark back. Plus he's a long-hair, which is so unlike me. I swear I don't know where that came from! The rogue that knocked me up was another tiger. Anyway, I hear the humans now refer to this one as "Jack". That's a pretty good name for him. He's stronger, more daring and I think he'll make a good hunter, and maybe the winter won't be much of a danger to him, once he strikes off on his own.
The other day I spotted some road kill--a squirrel. Sort of looked like how that one who knocked me up got all mangled on the road a few months back. Serves him right, the bastard.
So, I gnawed off a hunk and brought it up. My babies are getting stronger and bigger every day, and their little teeth are like needles on the teats! Time to ween them already. I bring a hunk of squirrel up and they jumped on the meat. Just as I figured, Jack was the dominant one and hogged it for himself, growling while he ate. How adorable! The next day I brought up more--a piece of leg. This time the one with white paws dove on it. The smaller ones, they still need my milk, so I don't mind getting them off by themselves to savor the last few times I get to feed them. The runt I worry about. The others play pretty hard, and it's hard for her to keep up. Now and then she just gets off by herself. She's a bit too trusting of the human woman, however. It bothers me. I've voiced my opinion of her and have growled when she came too close. I swear these humans are a bit dense. I may have to take her out someday. Just saying.
And now it's time for a long, leisurely nap after a night of prowling. Later.