I think very often of Gizmo. Gizmo was a feral kitten, born to mom Olivia. He was one of a litter of three. I remember the first time I ever saw Gizmo, when their mom brought this litter to my house to show them where the food was that I put out for the ferals. These kittens were about four weeks old at the time. I remember seeing Olivia come out from behind the shed, followed by two kittens. I thought to myself that it was good she had only given birth to two kittens. As that thought went through my head, a tiny creature came following behind them. He looked like a little long-haired guinea pig. White with gray markings and very fluffy. His legs were so short he kind of waddled. For a second I thought "what is that?". Then I realized it was a third kitten. I immediately named him Gizmo.

As a small kitten, Gizmo looked like a ball of fluff with a crooked white stripe up his head. We used to comment that he was a very silly-looking little guy. As Gizmo grew, he turned into quite a handsome young man. He was so friendly and happy-go-lucky. He loved playing with his siblings. I used to call them the Three Musketeers, because they were always together.

During the spring, Gizmo found a wonderful game to play. He used to sit up on the back porch railing and stalk the moths that would be flying around, attracted to the light. He would sit up there for hours. I remember wondering what does he do if he catches one. I got my answer when I witnessed him catching a moth. He ate it! I was shocked. I had no idea that a cat would eat a bug! Gizmo spent countless hours at this game. He soon showed his siblings how to play and they would take turns sitting on the railing and waiting for moths.

One night that summer, I happened to look out the back window and I saw Gizmo obviously chasing after something. Upon taking a closer look, I saw he was playing with a mouse. He would bat at it, it would run away and he would chase after it. Finally the mouse ran under a bush and Gizmo sat looking at the bush, not sure what to do about this. Suddenly, in swooped his sister, Lucy, dove into the bush, grabbed the mouse and ran off into the woods with it. Gizmo sat looking bewildered, as though he couldn't quite believe his mouse had been stolen.

Gizmo was such a friendly little guy. Every time I would go out the back door he would come running up the back stairs meowing and jumping around. I used to call it his "meow-meow dance".

Late that summer, Gizmo's siblings passed away from an unknown illness. Gizmo tried to hang around with his mom and with her new kittens, but I don't think things were ever the same again for Gizmo after losing his two lifelong buddies. He came around every day and he still did his "meow-meow dance" when I came outside, but I think Gizmo was lonely and missing his siblings.

Gizmo's first birthday came on September 7, 2008. I gave him some boiled chicken, some cheese, and other kitty treats to make his day special. I believe Gizmo had a good time that day and was very happy. Over the next month, Gizmo got into the habit of wandering. Sometimes I wouldn't see him for days at a time. I think he was out chasing the ladies, since I hadn't yet been able to trap him and have him neutered. I began to think about taking Gizmo inside and taming him and I started working on getting him comfortable with me touching him.

On October 11, 2008, just a month after his first birthday, I went out in the morning to have my oil changed. On the side of the road, about three miles from our house, I saw a white and gray cat that had been killed by a car. I thought to myself "Wow, that looks like Gizmo". I turned around and went back, pulled over to the side and got out of the car to check. As I walked over to the body, I begged and pleaded "Please don't let it be Gizmo". But it was Gizmo. My poor, sweet Gizmo would never do his "meow-meow dance" again. My Gizmo had died on the side of the road, alone and badly injured, in the very early morning hours of a chilly Saturday. There was frost on his fur and that just broke my heart.

I stood on the side of the road, crying hysterically. I got a fleece jacket out of my car and wrapped it around Gizmo, picked him up and put him in my trunk. I drove back home, sobbing, screaming, unable to believe that Gizmo was gone. Gizmo was buried in my fleece jacket on the side of the backyard where he loved to play.

As I write this, the tears run down my cheeks for Gizmo. Ten months have passed since I found him on the side of that road and I still think of him every day. Gizmo was a good friend and such a sweet, friendly feral kitten. I'll never forget him. Rest in peace, sweet Gizmo.


9/7/07 - 10/11/08