In the neighborhoods of Buffalo dwelt many cats. Some owned, some strays. I would see them on my street sometimes, going about their business. I wanted to grab one of them and take care of it. "They're homeless," I said to my husband. "I see their paws prints under the car all the time. They must be freezing." Marty replied, "The cats have demonstrated that they can survive all through these winters on our street. They don't need or want your help." I was comforted to know this, though I loved the cats and would've loved to save one and take care of it, even though I never owned a cat before.

In the middle of the coldest part of winter, I would hear a lone cat meowing. It stood in front of various neighbors' houses and cried. I didn't think much about it for a long time. One night the cat sat in front of my next-door neighbor's house. The cat cried and cried horribly all night long. I assumed it belonged to my neighbor. I was tempted to knock on his door and complain. Why was it crying all night and he was not letting it in?

While I was shoveling one day, I saw the little feline approaching my house. I was so happy to see it. I set down my shovel and walked slowly up to the front porch and it followed me. It was tan and white, in its own unique pattern. Beautiful. I wanted to feed it but I only had dog food. I ran inside, grabbed a bowl, and put some large crunchy morsels of dry dog food in it. I lowered it to the cat, and it sniffed it but turned its head. I didn't know what to give it. I rushed around and settled on a dog toy and showed it to the little cat. It seemed a bit more interested than it was in the food. Still, it didn't touch the plastic toy. It rubbed its head against my hand. I was touched. I wanted to let it in the house, but the dog was stirring inside.

"Marty, I want to keep this cat," I said. "I'm going to let it in the house." "Are you crazy!" he replied. "You can't have that cat. The dog will kill it." I was angry. I was upset. I thought my husband was a callous bastard. But he was right. The dog would have killed it. I tried to think of some way out of this problem, but of course there was none.

Why won't anyone let the cat into their homes, make it their housecat, and take care of it? Sometimes I believed that someone had. I try to believe that. But I didn't really believe it. The neighbors were callous bastards.

Six weeks passed. As Marty and I were driving down the street home, I saw a cat lying dead in the road near the curb. "Hey! It's a cat, isn't it?" I said. "Never mind. Never mind!" my husband said.

Did Marty run it over at an earlier time? Was this the cat I loved? What happened to my beautiful cat? Did it freeze to death? All of these thoughts ran through my mind. Finally I decided that maybe it was killed quickly, but more importantly, it couldn't suffer anymore. I'd been wondering why I didn't hear the cat's cries anymore.

I decided how I would set this right. I would save a cat. Any cat that needed a warm home, cat food, cat toys, and a cat bed. Every winter I searched for a cat that needed and wanted assistance. I haven't found one yet.