He had been under our front shrubs for many cold, wet, snowy and icy weeks.
My husband forbade my feeding him, but, that year we had 12 and 1/2 inches of solid ice accumulate.
It was so very cold the little guy would try to fold his feet up into his tummy fur to get them warm.
Of course I was sneaking food to him. He could not have been more than six to eight months old. He would come and sit on the top step and peer in at his image in the glass of the storm door.
He didn't know the one image was not him but my cat Bud. They were both black with green eyes.
He didn't talk much, it was too cold. The cats inside talked to him and he would rub against the glass trying to get some heat from them.
I tried to catch him to bring him in to get warm. I could see his toes were pink where they had frozen to the ground and pulled off parts of the pads.
He was very leery and wouldn't be caught.
I grabbed him a couple of times and cradled him to my chest and the purr could have been heard all the way across the street.
The ice remained on the ground for three weeks. We would get more freezing rain and the ice blanket grew and grew.
And, like Southern Illinois weather frequently does, a southwesterly wind brought in warm air.
This made the ice shear disaster to man and animal alike. It was the first time in my life I had to take a straight blade shovel out to break the last remaining ice from the steps and walks.
All this time the little black male lived under my shrubs at night. He would huddle someplace out of the wind in the daytime, catching the suns rays.
I put out water three or four times a day, and food two to three times a day. Finally my husband said the little guy out front is still there. We better give him something to survive on, he has so much heart to endure this weather.
The weather quickly became spring and the inside door to the porch was open most of the time so the house cats could look out at the birds.
One sunny day I noticed a lady walking up and down the city sidewalks on both sides of the street. The occurred several times throughout the day.
That evening the cats were in their usual position on the enclosed front porch looking out. I had fed the little black cat shortly before and they had been watching him eat.
A herd of my four cats came charging through the kitchen, and I wondered what they had seen or heard. Close on the heels of this, the doorbell rang.
My husband was closer to the door so he checked it out.
The lady I had seen off and on all day was standing at the door, a pained but hopeful look on her face.
"I am looking for a black kitty", she said hesitantly, "He has been outside for, I have no idea how long". "The people up the street adopted him," and each time I inquired about him "They said he was out and about, or something."
Finally she stated, she had gone to their house to see him and they said a neighbor had taken him in. They hedged when she asked which neighbor.She deducted it had been months since they had cared for him.
When I had seen her walking several times that day she was hunting and calling for him, though he had not seen her since he was a small kitten.
She had seen our "Bud" in the doorway and was glad and sad that the little black male had found a home.
My husband assured her the one on the inside was ours, but there was a little guy living under our shrubs.
I went out to search for him, he was no where to be seen.
My husband assured both of us he would be back shortly.
During our wait, the lady told this story.
She was an employ of a local company in the country. People were always dropping cats and kittens on the property or by the entrance.
She assumed, they must have thought the employees would take them home, or at least feed them on the site. It was not a company that had foodstuff manufactured or brought in.
There were so many felines dropped, the company hired two people just to set live traps to catch them and turn them over to the County Animal Control Warden.
They were always bringing them for her to see, which broke her heart. She knew, that many cats, would only be euthanized eventually. Or they would be given to farmers who were constantly needing mousers.
Of course the reason they were constantly needing mousers, was because the coyote population was devouring the cats and kits.
This lady had placed many cats, always checking with the folks who adopted to make sure everything was okay.
She indicated that the little black guy was the last one she had placed and she was very upset with the answers and lack of concern she heard in the family that had taken him.
About that time a small mew came from beneath the shrubs, at her feet. We all looked down at the same time.
There he was! In all his black beauty. He seemed to know her voice, but all it could have been was the kindness and that integral something, cats recognize in special people who relate to them.
She grabbed him up, called him Itty-Bitty, and he cuddle into her like he had been there his entire life.
She had two other cats in the house at home. She didn't need another "child" to raise. But she felt he was hers, and she was his.
That was five years ago. Itty-Bitty is healthy, happy and with the lady in this story. He grew into a very large cat, with loving ways, and is on her lap most evenings when she reads or watches TV. Her computer "lap", is one of his favorite spots, but it makes her have to reach for the keyboard.
I have kept in touch with her over the years. I send her cat web pages, I have been out to visit Itty-Bitty, he is marvelous.
The company still has many cats that have to be caught, but the coyote population is increasing around them also.
My friend tells me she had to tell the employees to never, ever bring her another cat or tell her about what they had caught.
Her heart melts at the sight, and she just cannot take the emotional upheaval it causes.
She cuddles and loves her three cats, and they all live happily every after.
