Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond (birdhousefrog) wrote,
Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond

Deja Vu

I was sitting at the dining room table, diligently working on a story, when I happened to look over at the deck and saw Phineas outside. The only problem was, Phineas, at that moment, was also sitting on the dining room table (where he's not supposed to be). Double-take. No, two cats alike in color and size. Photo evidence?

Strange Cat:

Yes, this was after I put out a bowl of food.

This was how I first saw the cat. Note the filthy glass. This was also before Miss E decided (for a fee) that she cleans windows:

So, srsly. I glance over without thinking and one of our cats (the one currently sitting on the table where he shouldn't be) is lying on the mat outdoors, waiting to be let in:

We get visited by cats on a regular basis, especially in the spring months. Some are clearly feral, some seem lost or abandoned, and some are just neighborhood cats that want to know what all the fuss is about. Mostly these other cats drive some of the guard cats (see Miss E's latest book) nuts. Benny, most especially, objects to additional cats taking up residence. Thomas and PD have begun to think we're running a boarding house and there's no point in registering further objections as long as the food dish is always full. The five kids don't really care, since they've always lived in a pack.

This one isn't as fearful as a feral. This one looks at us sadly through the glass, but won't let us closer than two feet at this point (but that's still pretty close). This one has actually walked in the open door a couple of times. And doesn't have the fat head of an unfixed male. And isn't all that aggressive. I'm beginning to wonder if we have a pregnant female (it eats a LOT of food). And such a sad face. A velvet painting, puss-in-boots face.

Strange Cat isn't there every minute. I suspect our cats run it off at times. But it shows up at least once a day now for a bowl of dry food. Or two. If it is pregnant, it needs the nutrition. Right now, it's a wait-and-see game to find out if the cat will let us any closer. But it sure ACTS like it belongs in a house, gazing wistfully at us through the glass. It rests on the deck for hours when I'm working nearby, seems to like the human conversation in the house, the noises.

No. This is NOT Goliath's replacement. No, we were NOT meant to have nine cats. Or, if it's preggers, fourteen cats. PD is 15 now, Thomas is 8, Benny about 7. The kids are all 3. I'm not about to deliberately add more, and younger, cats to the brood. We can have a lot of cats three seasons out of four, but that fourth season there are cats everywhere and cat boxes to be cleaned twice a day. No, no, and no.

Frog Out
Tags: cats, farm
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