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The first kitten to come out of the nest was white with a tiny gray tail and a gray patch over one eye. Her eyes were barely open, so we couldn't yet tell gender. We named her Marco Polo, because she was brave. When we found out she was female, her name got longer; Marco (the girl) Polo.
There were five kittens in this litter, and from the first I had all of us play with them. The more used to being handled by humans they were, the better their chances. It must have helped, two of them were adopted.
The other three we kept. I tried to get them to become indoor cats, but we had no luck there. The cats would sit at the back door and howl until my nerves couldn't take it any longer and we let them back out.
Of the three, Marco was probably the most affectionate. She'd come up and rub any ankle, as long as the person moved slowly. My family and I could move as fast as we wanted; she knew we'd pet her.
Working on the parents was a bit harder. I can't say that we ever got close to improving their opinion about humans, but consistent feedings and the occasional batch of catnip did get them to tolerate us to a certain degree.
Because we live on such a dangerous street, we had the mama cat and Marco spayed. A vet in our city has a spay/neuter program that helped a lot. Most of the time, the cost is $50 and up, but on special days, our vet would do them for $5. As these were ferals, he was even more glad to have them in.
All of these cats have now gone to the Bridge, but I hope they had a fairly happy life while they were with us.
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