I have four cats. They’re all feral. They’re all sterile. As in fixed, spayed, neutered. I say this because the night at my house has recently been the scene of cat serenades. Furry felines looking for love. And given that they’re cats, while I can hear them, I can never catch them to see who’s who. I don’t even have suspicions. It’s just sounds in the night.

Maybe the singers are attracted to the lights of the new cat hotel I erected on the back porch. After all the heat lamps do have a reddish tinge to them. But I think it’s doubtful red lights mean that much in their world. Maybe warm cats give off an appealing scent. I never much thought about it. Something is up though, and I’m sincerely hoping it is not the foreshadowing of more kittens. I don’t need more cats. Truth be told I could easily do with the half the number currently in residence.

As much as people seem to like cats, its hard to give them away. I know. I tried. I did place two but couldn’t get rid of the others. So, they just wander around leaving poop piles in my mulch and walking on my car. They have done a pretty fair job on the field mice that used to pester us. So, I’m thankful for that. But I miss the lizards who are also fair game. I guess, in the end, they’re just more evidence that your life will often change in unexpected ways, and the sooner you can get used to it the better off you’ll be.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale