I guess it was about 12 or 13 years ago... I was living at 1524 Melpomene in New Orleans... and I was up very late watching "Sally Jessy Rapha�l" on cable. It was raining really hard outside, but I kept thinking that I heard a little kitten mewing. I opened the door and looked down. Sure enough, there was a tiny, newborn kitten, barely longer than my thumb, just laying at my doorstep. I realized that the neighborhood cat (who nobody really owned, but everybody fed) must've started having her litter. I quickly brought the little puss inside, dried it off, wrapped it in a towel and then scurried outside to look for the mama cat, so I could return this lost feline to its rightful owner. I was just in a t-shirt and underwear, barefoot, in the rain, with a flashlight, looking under the house for any sign of Ms. Pussy. I went all the way down to the backside of the house (which was a quadruplex) near the gate to 1526 Melpomene and there I heard another kitten screaming. I looked down and it was in a mudpuddle! I snatched it up, tried to protect it under my t-shirt, as I ran back up to my apartment to dry it off and put it with the other baby cat.

I was frantic. How many other kittens would I find, nearly drowning out in the rain?! Where was that shiftless mama cat?!

I looked for what seemed like forever... the rain never let up. I found no more kittens. I didn't find the mother cat either.

For the next several days I played the role of mama cat... feeding them every 3 hours, licking their butts so they would go potty (well, I didn't actually lick them, but I used a warm, wet rag to feign the licking sensation that stimulates little kitties to do their business).

One of the kittens died... but one lived. It was dark all over with white feet, like it was wearing socks. I decided to call it Socrates.

The day that the other kitten died, the mama cat showed back up, meowing at the door, wanting food. A friend suggested that I give the freshly dead kitten to the mama cat (they thought she would pick it up and carry it off to where the rest of the litter was, so I could put Socrates back where he belonged). But the mama cat sniffed the dead kitten and then promptly started to EAT it! I was mortified. Even if that bitch lead me back to her secret lair, there was no way I was gonna leave my precious little Socrates with a cannibal!

I raised Socrates with as much love as I had in me. I let him suck my fingers until blisters formed (I guess my body was trying its best to produce a makeshift nipple). I read as much kitty psychology and cat care stuff that I could, to be as good a mama as a human could to a puss. Socrates turned out just like me... sweet... but screwy.

I was dating Dwayne K. at the time. I met him when I was 19... and we had a six and a half year relationship. I didn't emotionally mature AT ALL during those years. When our relationship ended, he retained custody of Socrates. I knew it was for the best.

Today Dwayne emailed to tell me that Socrates died recently. I suppose 12 or 13 years is as good as anyone can hope for a kitty that nearly drowned the day he was born.

So here's to Socrates, my long lost kitty-kid. Rest in peace, pussy.