Winter isn't the best time for growing up. That's true whether you're a human or an alley cat.
My name, or one of them, is Patch. I've had many names. I'm a wild cat, born and bred.
I stand here, facing the wind, and remember my first day. That was five years ago.
Cold! That's the first thing I felt. Freezing, nail-biting cold!
Then I was against Mother's side, and it didn't matter. I snuggled up and felt the shudder as my brother was born.
"Ah, two fine toms," she muttered.
I became suddenly interested in one thing: food! Nails, that's my brother, scrambled over me. He had the same thing in mind.
We both had our fill, then settled down to sleep, purring for the first time.
The next day, I was woken by a paw in my stomach. I snapped at it and heard a squeal. That wasn't Nails! I shook my head.
"Heey," the little ginger snapped.
"Who're you?"
"What d'you think? I'm your sister Red!"
I stared blankly at her.
"C'mon, what's your name?"
"What's 'name'?"
"Who you are," said Mother. "You're Dapple."
I rolled it around in my mouth. "I like it! I'm Dapple!"
Both of them laughed. I tried to look hurt, but that's hard when you haven't used your muscles in a whole night.
I heard a little sound and turned to see my brother. "Hi," I said. "What's your name?"
He made another little sound.
"That's Nails. He can't talk."
I later learned that Nails was what they call "mute."
