About two years ago a little scruffy feral black cat started showing up on our doorstep. Amy and I, being lifelong cat lovers, started to put out a little kibble in the mornings and evenings and the kitty "adopted" us. We named her "Licky" because she was black like licorice and also because whenever she saw us coming with more food, she would lick her lips in approval.
After about 3 or so months of this we realized she was pregnant and hated the thought of defenseless kittens running around our neighborhood at the mercy of owls and dogs. We decided to make her litter our new family members.
We monitored Licky's progress (and hiding places around the exterior of the house) and sure enough, when she started skipping a meal here and there, we realized she had had the kittens.
After about 6 weeks (as advised by the ASPCA), we took the kittens from her nest under our backyard shed while she was enjoying her evening snack on our front porch. At first we worried that she would be cross with us or "hurt" by our actions, but she seemed grateful; perhaps because we were"freeing" her of the burden of raising three rough and tumble kittens.
Shortly thereafter we used a "safe" trap and captured Licky so that we could get her spayed. To our delight, she came through the process just fine and we are still in her good graces. She still comes every morning and every evening for her meals, and has even taken a mild interest in the kitties. She occasionally rests on the patio table on the front porch while looking through the window into the house. She seems to enjoy watching them scamper around and play. I imagine it's a bit like when grandparents know that, at the end of the day, the parents have to clean up all the messes!
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