For three mornings, and the intervening nights, we’ve been trying to get a fix on the intermittent cries of one, perhaps two, unknown kittens. Never enough sound in a short period for us to launch a reasonable search, just enough to leave cat people upset and anxious.

And we’re not alone. At least two other neighbors have also been out at odd times of day and night, walking slowly along the small road that runs along the lower side of our property, which is pretty overgrown, flashlights when necessary, listening, looking.

Last night I felt like an accident in waiting when, after dinner (and need I say wine) with friends, I found myself in my yard jeans and shoes, flashlight in hand, feeling my way through the bushes and down the slope to the road below after we thought–could it have been the wine playing tricks?–we had detected another few small cries. Meda was listening up above, trying to set a search pattern. Neighbor Elizabeth soon joined in, flashlight in hand, and we wandered until finally deciding we were far more likely to injure ourselves than rescue a kitten.

But there we were again at 5:30 this morning, dawn still only a hint in the sky, clawing our way through the bushes in hopes of a more substantive contact.

Frustration is the name of this game.

It’s not that we need or even want another cat. It’s just too hard to have a kitten crying on the doorstep, or close to it, without doing something.

After all, Leo, Harriet, and Toby have been rescued as kittens from spot right near our house, and Annie from a bit farther away. They’ve all grown up to be very satisfactory cats, although, I admin, a bit neurotic.

We’ve been trying to recruit our cats into the search without much success. Toby and Romeo have spent time on the deck, gazing in the appropriate direction as if alert for any soundings. And Ms. Kili watched us this morning from up on the wall. I watched her carefully for any signs that she might pick up anything unusual. No luck.

Not a very enjoyable way to spend the weekend.