I was just a tiny feral kitten when I lost my mother.   She went to fetch food like she did every day. My siblings and I would wait on the porch of a house whose family was always traveling. It was freezing more than usual that evening. The loud noises from the roads made us crouch in fear. Then, I heard this screeching sound followed by a door opening and slamming in the street near the house's porch. I listened to a woman's cry of anguish. She bent down and picked up something. I realized it was my mother's limp body, with remnants of meat around her mouth. I watched the woman gingerly stroke my mother's golden-brown fur.

"Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry," she said.

 She looked around for a minute before putting my mother in her big car and driving off, leaving a cloud of dust.

My mother! What would we do without you? My siblings and I wailed for days, tired, helpless, and hungry. We huddled together, derived comfort from our golden-brown fur, and watched the rain lash furiously on the roads. The soft, warm blue rug on the porch floor sometimes became our refuge against the cold winds, and the roof above the wooden floor porch sheltered us from the unrelenting droplets of rain.

One day, the porch door opened when the sun dissipated the clouds and rain, and two girls came out. They looked surprised and fetched the adults, who looked at us with pity.

"Poor dears, they look so starved," one of the women said.

She fed us some salmon and took us to a home with other cats and dogs. I wonder if they, too, lost their mothers. They hardly talked and kept to themselves. My siblings and I were separated and put in tiny little spaces with a grill, like the house's windows on that porch where we lived. Every other day, I'd see human faces looking at me. Sometimes, they'd take home one of the cats or dogs. My siblings were taken away, too, and I never got to say goodbye. I am not sure how many days passed, but I waited, hoping that I'd find someone to love me and give me a home. Then, one day, when I opened my eyes, I saw an old, wrinkled face with beautiful blue eyes smiling at me.

"What a dear little thing," she said gently.

 Later, I learned her name was Liz. She lifted me with her tender hands, stroked me, and placed me in her car. This one was relatively smaller than the one that hit my mother, but it made the same noise while it moved on the roads. When Liz turned her car into a building, she said, "Welcome home." Her voice was filled with warmth and love, and I felt a sense of belonging I had never experienced.

The building was taller than the house with the porch. Liz took me up the stairs to her small home. The floor was softer than the streets outside, and unlike the hard, wooden porch floor, it had some soft cloth. I rolled on it, and Liz patted me tenderly.

"You have beautiful green eyes and lovely golden-brown fur. I can't think why, but I'd like to name you Ginger."

She fed me some salmon on a round object, which I learned was the cat's bowl. Sometimes, she'd feed me some tuna. I dozed off to sleep and dreamt about my dead mother's limp body. On nights when I'd wake up meowing, Liz would put a soft rug on me that felt like my dead mother's body I'd cuddle up to. Then, I'd drift away to sleep.

Over time, I became more accustomed to the human world, the things they used, and understanding their language, even though I couldn't speak it. I learned that the gas stove was where Liz pushed and pressed to generate fire to cook food. I discovered that this huge thing where Liz put the clothes and dried them was the washer and dryer. That noise they made irritated me. Liz would often watch other people's faces from this colossal thing. I could hear them talking, and their faces would appear close. Sometimes, I wondered if they could see us. Initially, I hid in a corner until Liz laughed and said, "Come out, Ginger, they can't see you. It's just television." Her face lit up whenever she smiled.

Sometimes, I noticed a certain sadness in her eyes. Next to the place where Liz slept was an image of an old man's smiling face. His face was round and wrinkled, and his grey eyes exuded kindness. He had a long nose, hollow cheeks, and hair above his lips. The hair on his head was very little, and it was the same color as a tree branch. Liz came and took the man's face with a wistful expression.

"That's Joe, Ginger. That photograph was taken before he... He was such a wonderful man..." Her voice trailed, and she stopped talking.

 I meowed loudly to get her attention and rolled on my back. She tickled my tummy, and then she talked. I looked at her, but her eyes were staring straight ahead.

"Several months ago, it was our twenty-fifth anniversary. He rushed to the stores to get something. It was raining. After some time, I got a call. They said..." she paused to wipe a tear. "They couldn't...he was gone. Hit by a speeding car."

 I swished my tail and perked my ears—just like Mother had died, I realized. Liz suddenly lifted me and pulled me close to her chest, and her salty blobs of tears fell on my fur.

"You are all I have, Ginger," she said.

What about your children? Don't you have any? I wanted to ask her.

 As if reading my mind, she replied, "Bob never calls that often. I'm not sure why. It's even worse with Joe gone. In a few months, on 15th December, it will be exactly a year when he would have died on the day of our anniversary."

She got up and came back to show me something round and gleaming. She slipped it on her finger and said, "It would have been nice to see this ring on his hand. I couldn't give my gift to him."

My whiskers twitched, and I found my eyes burning. The image of my mother's limp body flashed in front of me. I let out a small cry. Liz cuddled me, and I drifted off into a deep sleep.

One such time, when Liz was staring at the man's photograph, I noticed the window to Liz's porch was open. I slipped outside, curious to explore the world beyond Liz's small home. I spotted other humans walking by and heard dogs barking and some cats meowing. Did they also belong to people like Liz? What were they like? It was bright and cold outside, and I blinked. I glided from one house porch to another inside this building. I pressed my face through the window. I observed that all the houses were like Liz's: Small, with similar-looking objects. Some humans stopped to pat my fur and went about their way. I meowed loudly and got a response from a cat – somewhere on the floors upstairs. It was almost getting dark. The days were shorter now, and it got darker earlier. But Liz would wonder where I was, and I was feeling hungry. When I returned, Liz was standing outside the porch door looking worried. Her face relaxed when she saw me.

"There you are. I was wondering where you disappeared."

Later that night, after Liz slept, I heard a couple of cats outside our home. Were they the same cats I heard meowing? Liz had locked the window, and I wanted to find a way to leave the house at night to meet them. I loved Liz but sometimes longed for the company of other cats, especially when she placed a small dark object on her lap and pressed and moved her fingers around it. It made a tap-tap sound. Liz hardly left the house unless it was to go and buy me some food. I eventually curled up, slept, and dreamed about wandering in the dark with those two cats.

One night, I found the window open. I was surprised Liz had missed locking the window before bed. I suddenly saw something at the window – a shadowy figure of sorts. I perked my ears and walked towards it with my tail up. Was it one of those cats? A cold breeze slapped my fur as I let myself out. While it was dark, I could see lights in some of the houses. I wonder why the people there were awake. I saw that shadowy figure again and gaped. How could I not recognize the face of the man whose photograph Liz keeps looking at? The same dark hair on his head and above his lips. Those same eyes, hollow cheekbones. What was his name now? Joe, I suddenly remembered. My mind was in a whirl. What was he doing here? Did Liz know? Joe smiled at me.

"Hello Ginger, keeping my old girl company these days?"

I let out a yowl. How did he know my name?

Though he was smiling, I could see sadness in his eyes.

"So glad you can see me, Ginger," he stroked my fur tenderly. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

Just then, the dog from the neighboring house barked.

Its owner, a woman younger than Liz, came out and took him indoors. She saw me and exclaimed.

"Oh Ginger, what are you doing roaming about? Liz might miss you. Go home now."

She didn't seem to see Joe, or maybe she couldn't. Then she went inside and shut the door.

Joe immediately dissipated into the darkness like fog. Will he come back? Was he always here at night? Why did that dog have to bark? I couldn't see the other cats and slipped inside the house. Liz was still asleep, and I jumped up on her bed and curled beside her. She patted me and murmured, "Can't sleep, Ginger?"

I purred. Then she sat up and began to sniff.

"You smell like, no, this can't be..." She gave me a strange look.

I looked at her quizzically.

Her sniffing reminded me of that dog next door. I half expected her to stick out her tongue.

"You smell like him, that aftershave lotion he uses before he goes out. That musk...oh, Ginger, it feels like he is here. Or maybe it's just my imagination..." Her voice trailed, and her eyes grew moist.

I froze momentarily and wanted to tell her I met Joe outside but couldn't. My attempt to talk would only be a string of meow language, making her panic. Why doesn't Joe meet Liz? Human ways were strange, but were cats different? My mother never came to meet me. Perhaps she was happy wherever she was. Liz sniffed somewhere and gave up.

"Grief has a strange way of making the impossible seem real. It swirls your mind like a tornado."

After a long time, we both drifted into a deep slumber.

The next day, Liz held a picture of a grey tabby cat. For a moment, I was overjoyed. Was Liz thinking of getting another cat?

"Oh Ginger, the lady upstairs has lost her cat. Poor thing. We must help find the lost cat."

Then she came towards me and held me close.

"Hope you don't get lost, Ginger," she whispered.

Later that day, she tied something around my neck. I looked at her curiously.

"I will know where you are and how to find you. In case you get lost," she said.

Humans and their objects. That thing around my neck felt a little snug like someone clutched me with their hands. But I couldn't get it off.

It rained for the next few days, and the cold weather made me sleepy and hungry. I snuggled on Liz's soft bed and slept the entire day. Liz has been more attentive lately. I wonder if she feared losing me, like that lady who lost her cat.

"You are getting fatter, Ginger." She rubbed my belly.

I yawned and slept again, dreaming of Joe. When I woke up, it had stopped raining. I ventured out onto the patio. It was wet, and I felt tingling when a drop of water fell on me. It was beginning to get cold and dark. There weren't many humans outside, nor could I spot or hear the cats. Probably feeling too cold and huddled indoors. Liz was tapping on that black object with keys. I decided to go outside for a stroll, ruing over Liz's remark about my fat belly.

"Come back soon, Ginger," she called.

That object was still around my neck. I took a few steps when I saw Joe's blurry figure. This time, there was a strange light around him. He stroked my head and spoke again.

"Will you do me a favor, fella?" I tilted my head to one side, wondering what it was.

"I got something for Liz that I couldn't give her before I died," he said, pausing. I don't know if she ever found it, but it's inside the pocket of my white coat in my closet."

I blinked at him, wondering how I could convey this to Liz.

Joe sighed as if he had read my mind. "Yes, how could I expect you to understand what a closet or coat is? But I cannot depart until Liz has received what I wanted to give her. If only I hadn't gone out to get those flowers."

 I looked at him closely and felt sorry for him. I recollected the remnants of meat around my mother's mouth when she died. She, too, wanted to give us something before she died but couldn't. Maybe her spirit, too, wandered about trying to find someone to provide us with food, but they couldn't. My stomach suddenly felt heavy with sadness. I drifted into a trance of my past until Joe nudged me. It began to drizzle again.

I heard Liz calling out to me. She was standing on the patio, carrying a light, and spotted me.

"Thank goodness for the tracker. Come back inside, will you?"

I stayed rooted to the spot and looked back and forth between Liz and Joe. Liz rushed towards me. "Ginger, what happened? Come inside. I've set some tuna for you to eat."

The rain was getting heavier, and my water dripped off my whiskers. I tilted my head towards Joe and raised my paw.

"What is it, dear?"

Meow is all I could say.

"You must be hungry." She tried to lift me.

I shook my head violently. How could she not see him? Of course, he was dead. I wanted to smack myself. Joe looked at me sorrowfully as Liz lifted me in her arms. Joe and I exchanged helpless looks.

A flash of light appeared in the sky, followed by a rumbling sound. I blinked and opened my eyes to see that Joe had disappeared. I suddenly felt a stabbing sensation, heavy and squeamish. When we entered the house, Liz began to sniff again.

"How can this be? That same smell of his aftershave lotion? So fresh and invigorating. "

Liz looked into my eyes and raised her eyebrows.

"Hmm, you look different, Ginger, something in your eyes...you also feel different. Wait, maybe it's the rain. Or maybe the weather is driving me nuts. Let me get you dry."

I was led into a tiny hollow space in the other room where Liz kept some of hers and Joe's clothes.

"Where's that towel now?" she muttered, leaving the room. I spotted the white coat. Suddenly, I stood on my hind legs and dipped my paws into its pocket. There was a small, colorful box inside. I realized Joe's gift to Liz.

When Liz entered the room again, she gasped and dropped the towel.

"Ginger, what? How did you? I don't understand," she exclaimed, and her eyes widened.

I couldn't understand either. My body felt like it was being held captive. Maybe that light in the sky struck my head and damaged something.  I held out the box to her.

"How did you find this? What's going on?" She sat on the floor and placed her palm over her forehead. Still on my hind legs, I stroked her head. Liz gasped in shock.

"How? What’s going on, Ginger?"

When I opened my mouth, I expected a string of meows. Instead, the language of humans flowed fluently in a voice that was not my own. Then, I felt a sudden rush of dizziness and was surrounded by darkness.

 When I opened my eyes the next day, Liz bent over me. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She was holding something bright and shining, similar to what was tied around my neck.

"How can I thank you for this chain, Ginger? You saw him, didn't you? No wonder I kept smelling him. I thought it was my head playing tricks with me. And guess what? Today is our anniversary – December 15^th.”

I didn't understand what happened, but Liz and Joe got what they wanted. Days after that incident, it rained, and the weather outside was gloomy. However, Liz looked happier. She still gazed at Joe’s photograph but seemed less troubled now. I never ventured out after that. I constantly felt sleepy and hungry. Liz let me sleep on her bed. She spent more time stroking my head and cuddling with me. At times, the sensation of her loving fingers felt as warm as my mother's golden-brown fur.