Coda

I had a neighbor for many years named Marie, a proud elderly Italian woman and mainstay of Sunset Park (the proper name for the neighborhood where 20th and 5th sits in Brooklyn). She loved cats to the point where she would talk to the local strays as she fed them, chastising them for bad behavior or inappetence. She took as many of them into her apartment during the colder months and kept her distance from them. Neighbors would mock her for her devotion to the strays, but I found it beautiful. When she died several years back, I wondered who would take care of those cats in the wintertime. She and I were friends, and I miss her dearly. Even in the worst of times, and there were many back then, my mood could never sour if I saw her feeding and chirping back at the cats.

We feed the strays now. Kind of feels odd that we didn't before.

All of them apparently survived the cold snap. Not thanks to the giant plastic-and-mylar-monstrosity we built on our porch, but by burrowing underneath. I wish we could take them in — all four of them (that we know of) — but they'd be a danger to us. Maybe.

It will be warm soon, and they've survived this winter and past ones, too. In a few weeks, they'll be walking around the snowmelt, killing the mice that come from neighborhood eateries and digging holes in our backyard. When it turns cold again next winter, who knows what will happen. Maybe we build a better hut. Maybe we take them into the local vet to get checked for illness. Maybe we simply take them in.

I haven't been able to write much. Partially because of work. Mostly because I miss our girl. I'll get back into the speed of things soon. Until then, I'll be out there with a giant bag of dry food twice a day, watching from our doorbell camera to make sure the cats come back for another morning.

-Scott