I would have done anything to make that noise stop. And now I'll be paying for a long, long time.

About two weeks ago as I was pulling in the driveway I noticed a cat sitting in front of my door.

That's odd, I thought.  Why is the neighbor's cat sitting at our front door?

As I approached the cat I realized that it was not our neighbor's cat, just a similiarly colored cat that looked as if she had not eaten in days.

I took one look at this cat and knew I was in trouble.  The way it was laying on my doormat as if it was his own personal bed made me realize that this cat had decided it had a new home.

"Go away, cat.  Go back to your home."  I said half-heartedly as I scurried inside.  The cat tried to make it's way into the house but I pushed it back.  "No. You are not coming inside."

I sat down in the office, which is conveniently located right off the front door, to check my email.  And then I heard it - that horrible moaning, mewing sound that only cats in heat or cats that haven't eaten in days can make. 

I had to make that horrible noise stop.  How was I supposed to concentrate with that noise?  I'll take fingernails on a chalk board over a cat moaning any day.  And I really hate fingernails on a chalk board.

I tried to ignore it as I read through my email.  But the sound got louder and louder and more pathetic and I couldn't take it any longer.  So I scrounged through my refrigerator and pulled out a couple of slices of sandwich meat and put it out along side a bowl of water.  The cat looked at me as if to say, "Sandwich meat?  Are you kidding me?  Do you know how much sodium is in this stuff?  And what about all of the nitrates? Are you trying to kill me?"  To which I replied, "If it's good enough for my husband and my kids, it's good enough for you."

So he scurried off leaving the food untouched and I felt satisfied that I had at least tried to do a good deed.  I hope he finds a good, sandwich meat free home, I thought.

And I assumed that was the end of things until the kids got home from school and excitedly screamed, "Mom!  Look!  A cat!" 

And I knew it was over at that point.  The fish has long since sufficed as a real pet and Sarah has been begging me "for a sister or at least a dog Mommy. I need someone to play with." 

So I reluctantly bought some cat food at Wal-Mart and it has been ours ever since.  She comes and goes as she pleases  but she always seems to make it back in time for breakfast and dinner.

In fact, every morning while I'm sitting in the office before the sun comes up, the cat (Who has since been named Gray-Gray by Sarah.  She would not even consider my suggestion of Kit Kat. Yum.  Kit Kats.) will take her bowl and scrape it back and forth across the porch and bang it into the door until I feed her. 

So the kids have a pet and I have another mouth to feed.  That's usually how things work around here.