A few days ago Mr. Wonderful came in from putting wood in our wood burning furnace and told me that there was a baby ferrel kitten living in our wood pile. He had seen it the day before when he lifted up the tarp over the wood .

At first she wouldn't let him touch her but she was getting used to seeing him now as he normally puts wood in the furnace twice a day.

I was given strict instructions not to go out and see her because he knew what a softie I am and how easily I can become attached to a kitten. He reminded me that we already have two cats and dog and how easily I could become the "mad cat lady of New Hope!"

So being the obedient wife that I am I promptly ignored him and went out to meet Woody (named by Mr. Wonderful because she lives in the wood pile.) Of course Woody immediately thought that I was her mama and cuddled up the moment I picked her up. She was so small...all eyes and tail. I instantly bonded and began to think of ways to ease her into the family. Woody is a white cat with just a hint of grey on her fore head ( her markings look like some one dropped a few speckles of grey paint on her by accident!)

I put her down to go get my camera and every time I took a step she was right there under my feet. I would put her down and run only to see her scampering behind me as fast as her little legs could carry her. I was hopelessly hooked. I picked her up and played with her for about an hour and made several phone calls to some of my equally softhearted friends about adopting a kitten.

By the time Mr. Wonderful arrived home I had worn her out and she was sleeping in a cardboard box with a big fluffy towel tucked under the tarp so mama cat would be able to find her. My neighbor assured me that he had seen mama cat carrying her crew into various places of safety and not to be surprised if she was not there in the morning.

Woody was still in her box the following morning. Mr. Wonderful assured me that she was fine and looked healthy and ran out to greet him. We were very busy with volunteers this weekend but I heard Mr. Wonderful tell someone we had 2 and half cats. (Hmm...I thought, look who's the softie now.)

Yesterday evening when Mr. Wonderful came in from the wood pile he brought in the brown fluffy towel and told me gravely that Woody wouldn't be needing it any longer. At first I thought he was telling me that the mama cat had moved her some where else but I could tell by his face that the little kitten was dead. He buried her under the small weeping willow tree that I can see from my office window.

So here I sit, eulogizing a small female kitten who entered our life briefly and brought immeasurable joy for a very short time. Her small life had an impact on me and it is fitting that she is buried under a weeping willow.