Nugget's Story by J. K. Holmes February 16, 2006 Published in Writing Mobile Bay: The Hurricane Project Hurricane Ivan had left Mobile and Pensacola in shambles. Debris piles standing ten to fifteen feet high had lined the streets weeks later. The remains of once majestic trees lay haphazardly in yards and on rooftops. Blue tarps covered the broken bones of homes; their bright newness added a surreal cheerfulness to a devastated landscape.

    Mark, my husband, and I had left Mobile before the storm hit, taking our three cats with us on the journey to stay with my family in rural southwest Mississippi. We had returned to find only minor damage to our home. We were both fortunate and thankful for it.

    We had been home for nearly a week when I began hearing the high-pitched mewling of kittens from our enclosed courtyard. Since we kept our cats inside and they had been “fixed” to prevent any unwanted births, I dismissed the sounds as simply my imagination. It wasn’t until I saw one of the local strays crossing the courtyard that I suspected the truth.

    Movement through the sliding doors leading to the courtyard caught my attention as well as that of the cats. We all froze, watching the intruder. A thin black cat prowled along the far wall, well away from the sliding doors. It stopped and stared at us. Its large golden eyes assessed us, trying to determine if we were a threat. One ear twitched as a car drove passed the house. Deciding that we didn’t intend it harm but unwilling to give us a chance to change our minds, it scampered away.

    Waiting a few minutes to be certain it didn’t return, I stepped outside and listened for any sounds of the kittens I now believed were hidden somewhere in the bushes. I didn’t have to wait long before I was rewarded. Following the cries, I found four tiny black kittens huddling under a small cedar tree in a distant corner, stumbling around on their short legs as they searched and cried for their mother.

    Not wanting to disturb the nest or alert the mother to my presence, I backed away and went inside to call Mark at work.

    “We have kittens,” I said as he answered the phone.

    “We have what?”

    “Kittens, in the courtyard. That black stray I’ve been seeing has four kittens out there.”

    Mark sighed. “We’re not adopting them, so don’t get any ideas.”

    “I know, I know.”

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Read Nugget's Story in its entirety in Writing Mobile Bay: The Hurricane Project