I was looking out my sliding glass door into the backyard and I saw something on my deck. I took a closer look and saw beautiful colors. It was an animal. I didn't know if it was dead or asleep. I slid open the door and it immediately jumped up and was widely alert. It was a cat, the most beautiful cat I'd ever seen in my life. The cat was fearful and began retreating. I did not make any quick movements. I held the door open and reached for my own cat's food. I offered him a plate of dry crunchy morsels. It approached cautiously and began to eat the stuff. I was very pleased.

I continued this practice daily. I fed him Selena's food. The two cats glared at each other through the glass barrier or the screen and occasionally Selena lashed out with her claws, although she could not touch him. The feral was essentially peaceful, but occasionally retaliated. I could not comprehend the beauty of that cat. I was dazed. He had sea-green eyes, a clear color, not hazel, just very green. His body was colorful and sort of striped. The stripes were like the broken lines on the street. His tail looked like a raccoon's tail, with black rings around it. He had a small injury at the tip of one ear.

I fed Al every day. I paid a lot for packages of 40 large cans of cat food and went through them quickly. Selena got some, but she didn't have nearly the appetite Al did. She ate a quarter of a can and left most of it, and he ate two and three quarters. Selena was fifteen years old and a bit frail. Al was young, lean, strong and sinewy. His black nails were strong and hard. He put little holes in the screen door when he lifted himself to get pets through the screen. He and I were becoming good friends, though he was still a bit scared.

Al began coming to my front door, wanting to be petted. I stroked the flat of his head over and over again and he was appreciative. He stood practically on my feet to stop me from proceeding to the deck to set down his food and leave. He'd let out a short squeak when he wasn't petted enough. I knew I was probably the only friend he ever had, at least the only human friend. He was a wild animal, and I knew I could not let him go to an animal shelter, as my son suggested. He was happiest stray, and I thought I could just continue as things were, giving him food and petting him every day.

He became bolder, coming to my front door more and more often. One day, he was unusually excited, and couldn't seem to get enough of my hand on his silky, flat head. He would squeak whenever he was frustrated or trying to tell me something. I rarely heard him meow like other cats. I brushed his soft cat head and he moved backwards. For a moment, I was in between strokes. Then I felt an excruciatingly painful set of teeth sink into my hand. I was so hurt and so angry, and was barely able to recover to say, "That's bad, Al. Go. Go." He walked down the approach, ashamed.

I went into the house and tried to stop the bleeding with a tissue. It took some time. There were three marks, one at the base of my thumb, the other two near my palm. I texted my son and told him the cat bit me. He urged me to go to Urgent Care. I didn't know if I would go, that is, until my thumb started to swell up.

At Urgent Care, they gave me a tetanus shot and antibiotics. They told me that they had to report the animal bite to the county. The health department called me early the next day. I told them that Al was a very sweet, very affectionate cat who had just become "too excited." The woman on the phone told me to continue feeding him, to follow the same routine for the next ten days, that it was a watch period. I only wanted to protect Al. I wasn't angry with him because I knew he didn't do it to hurt me.

Urgent Care told me to see my primary doctor within two days of the incident, and I carried this through. My hand, at the base of my thumb, had become quite large. My entire hand swelled up, and the infection was spreading into my arm. The physician gave me stronger antibiotics, told me to take both drugs together, and that if the swelling didn't go down by morning, to go to the Emergency Room. She warned me that the infection could spread to my heart, or I could get blood poisoning. I began to think I might die. Or lose my hand. I thought about Al. The county might have him euthanized. An animal shelter might have him euthanized. He would not make a good pet. He bites. And that would be particularly bad if there were children. I thought it over and decided that Al should remain wild. He was beautiful and I admired him. People told me never to feed him again or have anything more to do with him. I knew that would be difficult.

I found myself in the hospital. Fortunately for me, the infection didn't travel to any internal organs, though it had begun the process. The antibiotics via I.V. took some time but finally had an effect, and the swelling went down. By the third day, I was able to go home. But still hadn't worked out the perfect solution to the problem of Al. I knew that Al was ashamed. I did not want him to carry guilt over the bite. I decided that I would at least pet him through the screen. I have always loved animals, but never before have I been so moved by the beauty and love of such beast.