For a long while I wouldn't let Ginger in the house, but we had a cold wave down to fifteen below and when the temperature got below twenty I had to let her in, haunted by the thought of finding her frozen corpse on the porch. Ruski wouldn't stick his nose out the door. Her second pregnancy was during the following winter and she bore the kittens in the house, in a basket I had prepared for her. And of course she stayed in to nurse the kittens. When the kittens were ten weeks old I gave two of them away. And Ginger kept looking for them and crying from room to room, looking under the bed, under the couch. And I decided I couldn't go through this again. Ginger has been going through that for centuries.
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