There were always cats around Ginger’s neighborhood. Most of them belonged to no one. They slipped beneath fences, slept under porches, and appeared at the edges of yards just before dark. Some were big, scarred tomcats that disappeared the moment a door opened. Others were mother cats that moved quietly through the neighborhood with kittens following behind them.

Ginger was used to seeing them. She knew they were wild enough that they usually stayed away from people, and they certainly knew enough to stay away from dogs. But one evening, a kitten wandered into Ginger’s yard.

She was old enough to be away from her mother, but not by much. She was still small, still young enough to be curious about a place she did not know. Ginger never saw her come through the fence. She didn’t know whether the kitten had been chasing a bug, following a smell, or simply exploring.

The dogs were already outside, and one of them found her before Ginger did. Ginger heard the commotion and ran into the yard. By the time she reached them, the kitten was lying on the ground.

“Get away!” Ginger shouted, and the dog backed off.

Ginger dropped to her knees beside the kitten. She was black and white, with little patches of white across her black fur. There was no blood anywhere that Ginger could see. For one hopeful second, Ginger thought maybe she was only frightened.

Then Ginger touched her. The kitten was still warm. Ginger put her fingers against the tiny chest.

Her heart was beating.

“Oh,” Ginger whispered. “You’re still here.”

She carefully picked up the kitten and carried her away from the dogs. The little body was limp in her hands, but Ginger could still feel that faint heartbeat beneath the fur. She didn’t know exactly what to do. She only knew she had to try something.

Ginger laid the kitten gently in her lap. With two fingers, she pressed carefully against the tiny chest. Once. Twice. Again. She bent close and breathed softly into the kitten’s nose, then pressed her chest again.

“Come on,” Ginger whispered. She tried again. “Come on, little kitty.”

Nothing happened. Ginger pressed gently a few more times, afraid of hurting her but even more afraid of stopping. She bent down and breathed into the kitten’s nose again.

“Please.”

But the tiny chest did not rise. After a while, Ginger put her fingers against the kitten’s chest once more.

The heartbeat she had felt before was gone.

Ginger sat very still. There was nothing else to try.

She picked the kitten up and held her against her chest. The little head rested against Ginger’s arm as if she were sleeping. Ginger stroked the black-and-white fur with one finger.

“You need a name,” she whispered.

It seemed wrong for the kitten to leave the world without one. Ginger looked at the patches of black and white.

“Oreo,” she said.

So for those few minutes, the kitten belonged to somebody. Her name was Oreo.

Ginger held her close for a long time. She wished she had found her sooner. She wished the kitten had chosen another yard. She wished the dogs had been inside. She wished a hundred things that could no longer be changed.

Finally, Ginger looked down at Oreo’s face. Her eyes were still partly open. Very gently, Ginger touched the kitten’s eyelids and closed them. For a moment she was afraid they would open again.

They didn’t.

They stayed closed.

Ginger carried Oreo to the flower bed. The dirt was soft there. She found a small shovel and began to dig. She made the hole deeper than she thought it needed to be because she wanted Oreo to be safe. When it was ready, Ginger knelt beside it and held the kitten one last time.

She ran her hand over the little black-and-white head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she laid Oreo carefully in the earth.

Ginger covered her slowly. She did not toss the dirt in. She pushed it back a little at a time with her hands until the small black-and-white kitten disappeared beneath it. When she finished, Ginger patted the earth smooth.

The flowers stood quietly around the little grave. Night had settled over the yard. Somewhere beyond the fence, one of the neighborhood cats called into the darkness.

Ginger sat beside the flower bed for a while. She didn’t try to make herself feel better. She didn’t tell herself that everything happened for a reason. She just sat beside a small patch of newly turned earth where a kitten named Oreo was buried.

A kitten who had wandered into Ginger’s yard without a name.

And who had not left it without one.