There's a coven of cats that live near my building, about 8 of them. Two of them are kittens, the last remaining of a litter of six; the other four are all dead.
One is solid black, very cute. She was the runt of the litter and we all thought she'd die during the winter, but she's held on prospered. If you sit still long enough, she'll come over and sit about eight feet away or so, just chillin' with you.
One afternoon I was sitting at the computer and saw something from the corner of my eye. She was tentatively poking her head around the open kitchen door, seeing what was inside. She froze when she saw me, but I froze too until she relaxed. She explored the kitchen a while, warily keeping an eye on me. For a while, she tucked her legs up under herself and sat contentedly. Bennie never knew what was happening as she was in the bedroom napping.
I've trained this group of cats badly, I fear. I dump Bennie's bowl of uneaten food outside for them to scavenge. It's not much, but they come running from all over when they see me and the bowl. It's fascinating to watch them. Some come bolting straight for the spot; others will trot over and circle around a moment; some hang back until most of the food's gone. They sniff and peck furiously for every bit.
Anyway, the other night I was outside with a flashlight and swept it around a group of those cats. Of course their eyes all flashed greenish-gold in the reflected light.
Except the black kitten. Her eyes were a bright, clear, strong blue, like late afternoon sky. It was startling and beautiful.
I would so love to adopt this kitten before the window of her ferality closes, but of course Bennie is a jealous mistress. This is her home and not to be shared. Ah well....