A story for Mother's Day

This is a true story, though not one I witnessed in person.  I read about it several years ago and have never forgotten the impact it made.  It is about a cat.
She was no one's cat.  Just a small faded calico (gray, tan and white), with tiny white feet and delicate whiskers.  She had no name, unless it was a name known only to her as cats are said to have.  She lived in an abandoned warehouse in the decaying section of a large city.   Other beings lived there off and on.  Some were other cats, drifting toms who passed through yowling their desires to the trembling few females who huddled in a corner.  Some were mice-delicious quick and easy meals.  Some were rats,
ferocious animals with glowing eyes and sharp yellow teeth who dashed through the empty rooms in search of anything or anyone who could become food.   Some were humans who walked on two legs.
Grumpy creatures often, who muttered strange sounds and hid themselves in old ragged coats.The humans sometimes smelled of good things to eat.  Now and then one would even toss a bite to the cat, who sat at a sort distance, watching, sometimes purring-a sound the human seemed to enjoy. The cat avoided the rats.  In fact she had selected the spot for her bed in a large overturned metal barrel.  This gave her protection on all sides.  She slept facing the open front.  She slept as all cats sleep, ears forever tuned to any sound and whiskers stiff and alert for any unfamiliar vibration.
The night of the story was a bitter cold winter night.  Snow was falling.  A howling wind blew in from the waterfront. A human staggered to the interior of the building.  He was bundled in a ragged jacket,
torn and faded pants, mismatched shoes-one a boot with no sole, a piece of cardboard inside in the bottom.  He cuddled in his arms a bundle of blanket which he wrapped around his body when he finally sat on the floor.  As he unrolled the old blanket he dumped out some balled  newspapers, a tin cup and two tea bags, along with a book of matches, "The Oyster Bar" printed in black on the red paper cover.
The cat watched silently from her barrel.  She was hoping for the scent of something edible.  She was very hungry.  Her three week old kittens were growing fast and demanding more from her flat nipples than she could provide.  The man pulled  frayed mittens from his knobby red hands.  With trembling fingers he piled the newspaper together in a heap.  Tearing a flimsy match from the pack, he attempted to strike it on the cover.  The match bent.  He tossed it away.  Once again he tried to strike a spark and failed.  At last
he succeeded. The tiny flickering flame touched the paper and burst forth into a blazing heap.  For a moment the elderly man hunched close to the fire--too close.  A puff of wind blew through the wide crack around the entryway touching the flame and forcing it towards the man.  The ravenous flame leaped
to the  blanket.  The flame grew stronger and hotter.  The man hollered, tossing the blanket from him.
It landed near some stacked boxes, which instantly were engulfed by the flame.  The man hobbled on sore
feet to the doorway, disappearing into the night.  The cat backed far into her shelter.  It was getting very hot.  Her kittens began mewing.  The unaccustomed heat was strange.  The crackling sounds and smells
of the fire were frightening.  Most of all they felt their mother's panic.  Outside now came the scream of sirens, the roar of large engines and many shouting voices.  The cat stepped outside the barrel.  her fur became singed.  Quickly she reached back into the nest and grabbed one kitten by the nap of the neck.  The kitten instinctively curled up his feet.  The cat ran out to the street.  A man in heavy black clothing
was standing at the doorway.  When  he saw the cat with her kitten, he reached out for them.  The cat sensing his intent, dropped her kitten near his hand.  Before he could catch the cat herself, she dashed back into the hot flame-filled building.  Gasping she made her way to the barrel.  She quickly snatched up
the second kitten.  Racing back, she dropped her second baby at the feet of the fireman.  "Stop her", he yelled to another man, who tried his best to block the cat from returning to the now engulfed warehouse.
Swift and agile, she slipped through his legs, returning to the inferno that had been her home.  The floor was red.  Her dainty paws were burning.  She could barely step on them, yet she continued.  her eyes were so filled with smoke and tears she could barely make out the location of the barrel.  Once there she searched inside to find her third baby curled tightly in the farthest bend of the barrel.  She gripped the neck of her limp kitten with her teeth, struggling to find the door.  Her fur was on fire, not flaming, but smoking and so terribly hot.  With one last lunge the cat with her last baby held fast in her grip, made it to the feet of the waiting fireman.  There she collapsed.  The EMTs wrapped her quickly, putting out the fire in her smoldering fur.  They placed an oxygen mask over the heads of the cat and her last baby.  The kitten
coughed.  She drew a small breath, sneezed, and began to breathe normally.  A mobile veterinary unit pulled up.  The cat and the three kittens were given immediate emergency care.
They were separated for over a week while the cat slowly began to recover.  Almost all of her body hair had been burned off.  Her skin was charred.  She was in a semi-coma much of that week.  When she was able to move about a bit and was eating on her own, the veterinary technicians brought her kittens to her-
just two at first.  The first two that she had carried out-they were doing well.  The cat began to wash them.  She cleaned their little faces, purring to them.  Then she remembered- there were three.  She looked up at the lady who had brought her two kittens and meowed.  It was a long, haunting meow.
Another lady then placed the third baby next to the cat.  This little girl had suffered burns too.  She had patches of grayish, puckered skin on her back and sides.  The cat tenderly licked the kitten's wounds.
All three kittens now snuggled close to the cat's tummy.  The cat purred loudly.
They all recovered, though the cat, herself, never grew back her pretty coat.  Still she wore her gray skin
proudly.  They were all adopted by one family. The cat now has a name.  It is, of course, Mama.
Is there any greater love than a mother's love?  Is there any greater mother love than that of a cat?
And who says animals can't count!

Happy Mother's Day.