I stared with a growing sense of horror at the cat as she nursed her newborn litter of six kittens. Six new mouths to feed. What the hell was I going to do?

I had never really been a pet owner. Mother was allergic, never allowed them in the house, so even after I got my own place, I never thought about having a dog or cat, or even a goldfish, even though I love animals. That made it all the more surprising when she started hanging around my yard.

She was obviously a stray, and clearly hadn't eaten in a day or two. Poor thing was skin and bones. I put out the leftover chicken I had in the fridge and thought that was that. The next day, though, she was back. All I had was some macaroni and cheese, but she gobbled it up. Before I knew it, I was buying a twelve pound bag of cat food every time I went to the grocery store. I really couldn't afford it; hell, I could barely feed myself, but I couldn't let her starve.

Now here she was with a litter of kittens. Sone tomcat must have come by, impregnated her, and left. I definitely couldn't afford to feed seven cats. I tried to re-home them, but no one was interested. I took them to the shelter, but they wouldn't take them unless they were spayed and neutered, and I definitely didn't have $100 per cat to have that done.

I stared at the mother cat as the babies drank their milk, and she looked back up at me with an expression that I knew all too well: she was hungry. The cat food was empty, I didn't have anything in the house, no money coming for another week… what was I supposed to do?

I read somewhere that cats will wait a couple of days after you're dead before they start to eat you. I hope she'll be okay until then. I hope there's enough meat for everyone. I hope none of the little ones swallow the bullet in my head and choke.