The following is adapted from Jack Baruth’s book, Cat Tales.

I don’t know when she made her choice. All my first glimpses of her were indistinct. A mottled white streak across a field, briefly spotlit by my truck’s high beams. One eye and ear peeking around the corner of my barn. Over the course of a month or so, as the weather improved, these fractions resolved into a complete cat. She’d low-crawl up to the outdoor food dishes when the others had finished eating, sneaking small bites as she shuddered and looked around for danger. Young, small, lean, always in motion, and absolutely terrified of people.