Early this morning as I was groggily climbing back into bed after feeding Nora, I heard the vastly unwelcome sound of a baby crying. I roused myself again and stumbled down the hall to check on her. She was still asleep. So was Gabie. So were the older two boys.
I heard the crying again and realized that it was coming from outside. It was more than crying, actually; it was pitiful wailing like I haven’t heard since the series finale of thirtysomething (when the sounds were coming from my own head). What on earth? Has someone deposited their newborn on my porch? Or is it just a police siren gone bad? I opened the front door in a panic, and first one then a second cat exploded from my bushes and darted across the yard.
And then all was silent.
Apparently on cat calendars, Valentines Day is the 13th of February.