About five or six months ago I was walking to Target by my old place, when I saw a dead cat in the street. Luckily, she wasn't in the middle of the street, but just below the sidewalk. My heart jumped up into my throat...the cat looked like one of the two strays that my daughter and I used to feed. They were both torties, with just a tiny bit of white in their coats. We named them Patches and Sprinkles. Patches tortie pattern was more "patchy" (kind of like a quilt, but not really like a quilt), while Sprinkles tortie pattern looked like someone had sprinkled the orange fur on her like you do when you're seasoning a roast or chicken. But the only way you could tell them apart was if they got close to you. And both girls used to rub on the screendoor that led to the garage.

So here I am, standing on the sidewalk, blubbering like a fool because I'm too scared to go any closer to the poor little kitteh in the street to see if she was, in fact, Patches or Sprinkles. So if it was either one of my "unofficial" babies...I'm so sorry, baby. I wanted to let you come in, but my then husband had put his foot down. NO MORE CATS! Our three were enough, and nothing that my daughter or I said would change his mind. At least you were able to get food from us for a bit before it got too cold to leave our garage door up so either one of you could get the food and water that we left for you. It broke my heart when we had to start closing the garage door because of the draft that would come under the kitchen door.

Seeing you in the street made me cry so hard. You were loved so much. I just hope you knew and understood why I couldn't bring you in. I wish I had had the courage to go up to you and see if you were Patches or Sprinkles...then this could be a proper farewell...

I love you both, Patches and Sprinkles...wherever you are.