It was a frigid winter afternoon, and I had just stepped outside to bring food to an ailing neighbor when I saw her: a little black-and-white Tuxedo, sitting in the frozen dirt behind the currently leafless bushes that lined my house.
 “Oh. Hi,” I said.
 We stared at each other for half a minute, and I started to shiver.
 “Meow.”
 It was the most plaintive yet polite sound I’d ever heard come from an adult cat, and I’ve been caring for cats for more than forty years. Until January 31, 2021, I had no experience with community cats. All my four-legged companions had come from rescue shelters (or the pound, as we used to call it, where unclaimed animals may be put to death). I didn’t know the difference between a stray and a feral, and I assumed my daily visitor had been in a terrible fight because the top of her left ear looked like it had been chewed off. I had no idea what Trap-Neuter-Return, or TNR, was or how tragic and widespread the plight of hordes of homeless cats is.
 In this book, I hope to share the travails of those who cannot speak for themselves and help educate anyone who wants to be part of their salvation. Whether or not you can adopt a homeless soul or two into the warmth of your home (as I ultimately did with Midnight), tend to them outside in the wild, or donate funds to offset their veterinary bills, understanding their needs and the culture of cats is the first step.