Flashlight in hand, Izzy searched the wooded area behind her house. The last few days when she took Sheba for a walk she had felt eyes on her. Her old German Shepherd would growl and even lurch at the trees. Tonight’s walk Izzy hadn’t felt watched but she thought she’d heard a mewling. Sheba refused to enter the woods at all. Izzy couldn’t get the worry out of her mind.

With a high-powered flashlight on one hand and an open can of tuna in the other Izzy ventured into the woods. Twenty minutes later, she felt a fool and smelt of fish. Suddenly Izzy felt like the sixty-year-old woman in SpongeBob pajamas that she was. She crunched over the dry twigs thinking of hot chocolate. A soft mewling caught her ear.

Izzy knelt by a hollowed stump. Tender cries grew louder. Hoping for kittens, fearing for opposums, Izzy peered into the stump. Nestled into a bed of dried leaves and flowers sat two balls of silky black-gray fur. In the moonlight between the still empty tree branches, the two balls looked a bit like tiny people. Pointy noses, long fingers, and eyes like hermatite marbles, the features stared at izzy and hizzed.

Dropping her light and her can, she fell backwards. Her amble bottom slammed the ground. izzy wheezed in pain. She’d hit her tailbone hard. Aching, Izzy scrambled to her feet. Izzy found her flashlight and turned it on. Backing up, she trained the beam on the hollow stump. Inside a pair of fluffy kittens were eating from the spilled can of tuna. At the light, the kittens turned and hissed.

“Ooo, spicy,” Izzy said. “Where’s Mum? Oh you guys look so skinny.”

Her hand was drawn closer. One of the kittens continued to hiss, but the smaller one rubbed its furry face against her fingers. A warm tingle sparked at her fingertips and zinged up her arm. Her heart skipped a beat and she could smell her Grammy’s silver dollar pancakes with honey and fresh picked mulberries. Shaking her head, Izzy picked up the kitten. It rubbed against her cheek and laughter bubbled inside her.

Izzy scooped up both kittens. Still hissing, the extra spicy kitten nipped at Izzy’s thumb. Suddenly, her tailbone stopped hurting. As she walked back to the house, Izzy felt better than she had in years. Frantc, Sheba barked by the sliding glass door. As she approached the house, her old dog ran and hid under her bed.

“What should I call you pretty kitties?” Izzy said as she carried her new pets inside.

Humming, Izzy swayed around her living room. She felt a little drunk. The names, HellFire and Brimstone, sprang to her mind. How strange, yet how perfect, Izzy thought woozily as she settled her kittens in a basket with a warm blanket.