Monday, the 28th of August, 2000, while sitting at my desk, I heard a kitten crying. Just like when I first heard Peter last year, it sounded like Lonee or Gracie. I checked the house out thoroughly, making sure both Lonee and Gracie were okay. I found Gracie out in the backyard, being followed by her suitor, Jack. I figured it was just my imagination, stress (which would be quite possible, since I was dealing with Lola's cancer and the loss of Maggie just three days before). I came back to the office and started working again. And I heard the crying. Was I going nuts?

I got up and checked out the cats again. Lonee was asleep outside in one of the cathouse. Gracie was sleeping on top of the entertainment center. Nobody had been crying. I knew then, I was losing my mind. But, just in case, I turned off the fountain that's in the entry way. It's awfully loud and if I heard the crying again, I could possibly hear it a little better without the fountain. I came back and started working again. About an hour later, I heard the cry again. This time, I walked quietly to the front of the house, not saying anything to any of the cats. The crying sounded as if it may have come from the garage. I checked. Nope. I heard it again. It was coming from out front. I walked to the front door, stood and listened. There it was again. I went out front and checked behind the plants in the entry way. I checked the bushes in front of the bedroom window. Nothing. As I was walking back into the entry way, I looked behind Brian's wash buckets for the trucks. They're hidden behind some plants. And sure enough, I saw a little white body. No bigger than a large rat. I reached down and picked it up. A tiny white kitten, not very old. Blue eyes. Shorthair, gonna be a flamepoint. One of its eyes was shut, with gunk around it. I brought it into the house, thinking "Brian's gonna be so mad, but what can I do? I just can't leave it outside." I took it into the exercise room. I called the vet and was told that I could bring it in and leave it, they would run the tests and let me know how it came out or I could come in at three. I took it in. If it was a boy, I would name him Magnum, for Maggie. Because I know that if it hadn't been for Maggie, I wouldn't be holding this tiny thing in my hand.

Well, he turned out to be a she. About six or seven weeks old. With an eye infection and a URI. I was told to keep her away from the other cats at all cost until her week long medication was finished up. That her premature entry into the general population could be devastating to the other cats. And her name is Mystie Maggie. A real little cutie pie. Welcome to the family. I didn't know where she came from. I suspected our UPS man had dropped her off, because he knew about Maggie and he was always threatening to leave a kitten or two at our doorstep. It made me angry to think he would do something like this, but at least I knew she was going to be alright. We would do right by her. Brian wasn't really happy about the new addition, he thought that we would let our cat population get down, not bring any new kitties in.

As with all of our cats, the best way to keep up with their progress is by reading my online diary.