MILFORD – Diane Morse rises at 4 a.m. each day and begins tending to the needs of 191 cats that live with her in a dilapidated but clean 10-by-50-foot trailer.

“Good morning, guys,” she says softly as she begins a series of chores that will occupy the next five hours until she reports to her day job processing taxes for Bangor-area residents.

She begins removing the fitted sheets from 15 stackable bunk beds on which her cats rest. The beds line the walls in her small trailer. The sheets are washed daily in three loads.

She then throws on the feed bag, filling communal bowls with 45 pounds of dry cat food – a tab that runs to $258 a week. Water dispensers are refilled.

Next comes litter-pan duty, a seemingly unending chore that involves emptying six huge litter bins and refilling three with six 25-pound bags of cat litter per day. The other three bins are filled with fresh wood shavings.

It’s “cat central” at Morse’s trailer, set in a residential section of this Penobscot County town of 3,000. Morse opened her door to strays a few years ago and now is working toward a goal of opening a cat sanctuary in a bigger building.

Her budding business, Morse’s Feline Rescue Foundation, is licensed as an animal shelter. She recently received incorporation papers from the state. Of more significance, the Internal Revenue Service last month granted her nonprofit status, which means people donating food, equipment, and, it is hoped, a building, to her cause can look forward to tax deductions for their efforts.

“It’s important to soon find bigger space” for Morse and her cats, said John Benson, head veterinarian-owner at the Broadway Veterinary Clinic. Morse started bringing her cats to the clinic in 1990. She had seven cats at that time.

Morse “cares so much and she makes sure she does everything she can to keep her cats as healthy as possible, but she’s reaching a critical limit when problems of stress and crowding,” could have a negative impact, Benson said.

A collection jar for Morse’s cat sanctuary sits on a counter at Broadway Veterinary Clinic, a place she visits frequently. Careful about her cats’ health, Morse makes two to three trips a week to the animal clinic, bringing in a never-ending procession of felines to be neutered, to get shots and for other medical treatments. “No cat crosses my door until it’s checked over” by Benson and his staff, Morse said.

A sample of current kitties includes:

. Punkin’ Boy, an 8-month-old yellow and white shorthair, wraps himself around Morse’s ankles in a bid for attention. Born in a litter of six kittens, he is the only survivor. Most of the others were run over before their hapless owner called Morse for help.

. James Dean, a frisky black and white shorthair, who often tussles with his sister, the mysterious Victoria’s Secret. The kitty siblings were among 22 cats Morse took in after they were abandoned in an East Millinocket home.

. Wanda-Jo, a long-haired tortoise-shell cat who had an adult weight of 2 pounds when Morse found her abandoned behind Sam’s Club in Bangor. Now she weighs 111/2 pounds.

A cat lover from childhood, Morse, 43, has named each member of her feline brood. She rattles off their stories, all with at least one thing in common – a desperate need for a home and somebody to care for them. She is adamant that no cat she takes in will be euthanized – unless the veterinarian tells her it’s necessary.

Unwilling to turn away any stray, Morse has seen her cat family increase by 65 percent in the past six months. Last year she spent $17,000 on feeding and caring for her animals. She received close to $5,000 in donations when her story first was publicized last September. The money went a long way toward getting her authorized as an animal shelter and a nonprofit organization. It also helped feed her growing family for the rest of the fall and winter.

Now she needs more help. Morse’s goal of opening a cat sanctuary in a bigger building seems to have reached emergency proportions. Space is at a premium.

Cats peer out of kitchen cupboards that have beer boxes converted to kitty beds. They look out from shelves that are lined with soft cushions instead of shelving paper. Morse stores no human food in the trailer, preferring to eat out. She has to store toilet paper in her shed lest the frisky felines shred the rolls.

Since everything donated to her project now is tax-deductible, Morse hopes some kind property owners with an extra building will take note of that fact. She is seeking an empty house, one that may be a bit run-down but able to be renovated. She also hopes some kind contractors will offer help once a building is located, to convert the space to a home for her burgeoning feline family.

“I have a feeling it will happen. This is what I’m supposed to do,” Morse said, gently checking some of her animals for cold symptoms.

Cleanliness and good health are the guide words at Morse’s place. She vacuums constantly. Air filters circulate oxygen all day and night.

Six months ago, Morse had 116 cats, all of them strays or animals no longer wanted by their families. Morse has been known to wait behind trash containers for hours to “live-trap” a cat in need of a home.

She brought two of her feline family to Hampden Academy last week to sensitize students to the need for an alternative shelter for cats.

“How many cats? 191? You’re crazy,” one junior girl blurted out.

Used to the observation, Morse smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m crazy about cats.”

Those interested in donating funds for Morse’s cat-sanctuary project may contact the Penobscot Federal Credit Union, Box 434, Old Town 04468. Make checks payable to Morse’s Feline Rescue Foundation.