Shh! It's a secret.

That's right, I have a secret. For five years my home has lacked one key ingredient of life - kitties. We had to give Nacho and Talegate away when Mom got sick. As independent as cats are, they have a sixth sense, they know when something isn't right, and they smothered my mom with too much concern. So, out to the farm they went. Unfortunately, Talegate went missing one day and much to the new owner's dismay, found him inanimate. Not long after, Nacho went mentally insane. Let's face it - life away from the Nardonis isn't worth living.

Dad has not shed a single tear in their absence. It is very sad, I know.

A few months ago Todd peered out to the neighborhood from his humble abode tucked neatly beside ours. At that very moment he gasped in horror. My father must have been running a feline harlem of sorts because there on his front lawn was a kitty orgy. Four cats getting it on with another awaiting its turn from the front steps. Sick.

On Sunday I was wishing Tim, Sandra and Ezra farewell, as tradition holds, from the front porch when something skittered across my path. I screamed thinking at once that a racoon had invaded my territory, but I noticed that the furball was no more than ten inches long. It was much too dark to pick up any details. The next afternoon I stepped out to retrieve the mail and again a dark brown ball of fur ran past me. This time I noticed that his tail is abnormally short, so it sticks out straight when he runs like the wind.

So here comes my secret... I fed him last night. I couldn't help myself! Sitting in the dark of our living room I watched through our large front window as he curled up on a pile of leaves next to a bowl of tuna. He didn't touch it.

When I checked this morning the tuna was gone; so was he. Perhaps he is on a magical cat adventure with a full belly, roaming the boundless quarters of the neighborhood on this chilly winter day, only to return later this evening for a nap on his patch of foliage.

Dad will kill me if he finds out.