One night, I was sitting on my back porch reading when I heard a cat crying. Having an extremely huge soft spot for the small and furry, I went to investigate. The cat meowed - I meowed back, trying to pinpointed its position.

Ah, the neighbor's roof, and one large tabby-cat staring at me with lamplight eyes. Hey kitty, puss, puss, puss. She bolted. However, two more pairs of eyes greeted me from a hole in the attic just under the eaves. A very insistent, forceful MEOWR issued forth from the tiniest orange kitten mouth. Well hello there! I mewed back at them. Apparently what I said translated to hey there, come down and visit, in kitty-speak. After a small wrestling match, the first kitten leapt out of the attic, and landed in my hands. The second followed shortly thereafter, after he figured out how to unstick his claws from the stucco walls. One-handed catch on that one. Well now, what do I do with you? Two more little heads peeked out, then retreated deep into the attic. I enlisted my roommate's help, and after bridging a minor language barrier with my neighbors, my roommate climed up and retrieved the other two kittens.

Four weeks old, and tiny tiny. They could barely eat. We nursed them as well as we could, and even weened one of them, but I couldn't devote the time necessary to give them the nutrition they needed. I wanted so badly to keep them, especially the little orange boy. After I'd feed him, he'd curl up in the palm of my hand for a nap. Unfortunately, I had to give them up in hopes of getting them fostered properly. I do not know their fate, but I hope they were cared for and adopted out. I have to believe that.

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