Cat Tails.

 Tim was talking to a neighbor when someone else came over and said, "I've lost a cat. He's a long hair black cat." 

Tim said, mildly, "He's in our driveway right now. Go get him." 

I'd be quite interested to know who that fellow is. How, exactly he defines 'pet ownership'. Goblin is a cat who has been a stray for as long as we've been here. We tried to bring him inside a long time ago. Probably 10 years or so, but we couldn't do it. He did not want to be an indoor cat. He was most unhappy. So...reluctantly, we ceded to his demands and left him outside. 

We do feed him, however, and we've been feeding him for years. As soon as he hears a sound from the kitchen, he is at the back door, standing on his hind legs, peering in the window in a beseeching way. He looks like a hairy little goblin face with two hairy paws on each side. That's how he got his name. He gets 1/2 of a can of cat food at breakfast, and the other half last thing at night and believe me, he knows EXACTLY when it's meal time. There is a dish of dry kibble for nibbling on in between those two events, and he will be the first to tell you that he is not fed nearly enough. At the top of his feline lungs, he will tell you his sad story. 

So...this fellow, whoever he is, doesn't 'own' this cat. He's welcome to him, if he wants him, but Goblin will never be an indoor cat. We gave it our best shot. But if the man wants a fine outdoor cat, he only has to sit down with him and come to an agreement on the food situation. A full can of cat food morning and night would be enough to convince Goblin that the pickings are better on the other side of the fence. We would never see him again.  

The hairy mooch.

My brother-in-law and sister stopped in to see the painting at the new house and were impressed. I went down to show them the kittens. They agreed that they are cute, the ones that they saw anyway. Gaza came out, which surprised me. There were four of us standing there and two were men. She does not like men's voices. I sat down on the ground and she did her darting thing. I got a pet in, but that's about it. But still, I took it as a positive sign that she came to visit a crowd of people. 

My sister said, "That cat looks pregnant." I winced. Yesterday, when she hissed and took a swipe at me, I had put my hand in my lap, told her no, in a quiet way. I wanted to be sure that she understood that when she behaved like that, she would get no more pets. In a considering way, she flopped down and began to groom herself. She stretched out lazily in the evening sun, and I thought, 'My god. I hope she's just filling out from regular feeding...' 

Now my sister was standing there giving voice to my worst fears. I said, wearily, "Just what we need: more kittens."

My sister said, "That's how we ended up with 22 cats once."

My brother in law had been the head of maintenance at a church camp for many years. She said that people simply dumped pregnant cats off. They roamed the grounds freely and they were good mousers. They were nobody's cats, but they were everywhere. 

22 cats. 

The one thing that I know for sure is that the cat taming has to continue. I need to be able to pick up that cat, stuff her in a cat carrier and get her to the vet. If we don't, we will be up to our armpits in feral felines in the matter of a year. 

Late Edit: I forgot that I was going to post this: