Tracking me down...
"In the beginning it must have been quiet, but I can't remember a time when it
was. They've just always seemed to be with us, different colors, different
shapes, but always there and underfoot.
At some point word must have got out, and the underground cat-railroad shuttled the sick, abused and starving to our doorstep. And perhaps my first inkling that something was amiss was the winter I shared my bed with 11 cats, a wolf and a mutt. I don't recall sleeping well, but I learned a lot about diplomacy.
Over the years so many furry people have crossed my doorstep it's hard to keep track of their names and little faces. Some stayed for only a meal or a few days, and some chose to live out their nine lives here among the pink camellias. I've cared for the quiet and meek, loud and obnoxious, dictators, opera stars, the mentally challenged and lots of military personnel who marched up and down my bed and across my face at the crack of dawn ordering me to get up.
And with each new little person that sat expectantly on the porch, I realized that, here again, it was only the beginning..."