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“I’m sure Charlene will appreciate it. She’s gotta be starving.”

Charles pulled the metal ring on the kitten food can next.

“What’s that smell?” the kitten mewled from my lap almost immediately.

I chuckled. All cats are the same, whether young or old, pet or stray.“We have some dinner for you,” I enthused, setting her on the ground in front of the two bowls just as Charles finished plopping the kitten pate into the second dish.

She went straight for the tuna-flavored mush, making yummy noises as she snarfed it down as quickly as her tiny mouth would allow.

“Would you look at that?” Charles remarked, his green eyes fixing on the baby lovingly. “Looks like I did good.”

“You did great,” I said, reaching over to rub him on the shoulder. Charles and I both thought it would be best to wait a couple years before starting a family, but at least now I saw he would make a truly fantastic dad when the time came. Maybe that would be sooner rather than later, after all.

7

Charlene finished half of her wet food before moving on to the milk, which she proceeded to lap up just as enthusiastically. Her ability to eat solid foods was encouraging. Perhaps she wasn’t as young as we’d initially feared. But the fact that such a tiny thing was eating so much at one go suggested she’d been on her own for far too long. It’s a good thing Charles and I found her before some predator had.

“You stay here,” I told my husband, carefully pushing myself to my feet. “I’m going to search for Charlene’s mother.”

I flipped my phone light back on and started my hunt. I really needed to get more information from the kitten about what her mother looked like, but I also didn’t want to upset the frightened little thing any more than I had to. That meant right now I was simply looking for a cat—any cat.

“Here, kitty, kitty!” I called softly, unsure whether this strategy would even work. But what choice did I have?

I moved closer to the house, checking for any hidey holes that might attract an animal in search of shelter.“Hello?” I called.

No one answered. Of course no one did.

I moved around the house to the backyard. The gardens back here weren’t as neatly kept as those out front, but still very impressive all the same. I stopped to admire a small vegetable patch and wondered if this was where supper’s buttered peas had originated.

After only a very brief pause, I carried forward, making clicking noises that I hoped would entice any cat who might be listening.

Zip!A fast flash of movement on the periphery caught my eye, and I spun around. Whatever I’d noticed had already disappeared from view, however.

“Hello?” I called, voice shaking. Was this the missing mother cat or a roaming murderer? I shuddered again and vowed to stop watching so many true crime documentaries in the future.

Swallowing down that sudden lump of fear, I moved decisively in the direction of the movement. And my senses screamed at me—specifically my sense of smell.

“What is that?” I groaned, waving a hand before my face to help dissipate the awful aroma. With one hand pinching my nose, I used the other to wave my light around until it landed on a huge leafy green plant. Yup, that was definitely the source of the smell.Gross.

I snapped a quick photo before turning tail and moving as fast as I could in the other direction.

When I returned to Charles and Charlene, I found that both bowls of food had been licked completely clean. Now a full-bellied fur baby was resting on my husband’s lap and purring so loud I could hear it from several paces away.

“Any sign of her?” he asked hopefully, but I just shook my head.

Charlene stopped purring.“Why hasn’t my mommy come back?” she demanded, her eyes roving across the garden. Unlike us she could see perfectly in the night. Her hearing beat ours too, which Octo-Cat had reminded me several times over the years—along with every other way cats are superior to humans.

“We haven’t found her yet, but we aren’t giving up,” I assured the little one, taking a seat beside her and Charles. “Can you maybe tell us a bit more about her?”

Charlene closed her eyes and purred softly as she called upon the memories of her mother.“She is the nicest mommy ever with very soft fur for cuddling and very sharp teeth and claws for hunting. I want to be just like her when I grow up!”

“What does she look like?” I prompted gently.

The kitten closed her eyes again, whiskers twitching as she thought.“She’s black with brown spots, long whiskers, and a very pink tongue.”

I got out my phone again and did a quick web search.“Kind of like this?” I asked, showing her a photo of a tortoiseshell cat.

“That’s not my mommy,” Charlene cried, offended for a moment before softening in defeat. “But I guess she looks a little like that.”

“Okay, I’m going to show you some more photos, and you can let me know if any of them are your mommy.” I typed inanimal rescues near me and then began scrolling through the photos of adoptable cats, pausing over any mostly black cats to share the photos with Charlene.