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One day, my husband walked into our house and asked me if someone had left a gift for our family in the patio. This was not an unusual question since many times friends of ours would drop off a bag of fruit or a box of hand-me down clothes. But, on that particular day, I really had no idea what he was talking about.
Upon investigation, he led me quietly through our kitchen and to the outdoor patio, which I affectionately called his “Locker Room” since any kind of youth sports gear and equipment could be found in that space. In the "Locker Room", he led me around my sons’ bikes, around a bag of high school soccer balls, past some baseball bats and Junior Golf clubs to the far wall. I walked around an old couch that has managed to swallow numerous remote controls, baby toys and a few Cheetos over the past decade that we have lived in this house. He directed me to approach quietly and I began to get nervous. I am not one who likes surprises. Gifts? Yes. Tokens of appreciation? Yes. Surprises? NO!
He said, "There's nothing to be afraid of...just look."
And lo and behold, between the couch and a dusty, old book shelf laid a pile of white, orange and grey fur. I say a pile of fur, because at first glance I could not tell how many fur balls there were cuddled up against the side of the couch. I could not believe my eyes. There, on that warm sunny afternoon in August, we found ourselves a litter of kittens. Five kittens altogether. Little did we know, this discovery marked the beginning of The Kitten Saga.
