Selfless as ever, we volunteered to test the new mattress.

The return of the conqueror

Next door's cat Bailey was acting hesitant, not wanting to come down from her perch on the fence. Yoshka was staring out the window like she had seen a ghost. Something was happening out back. But what? A few moments later I happened to glance out the upstairs window into the garden and saw the reason for their agitation - Harley has returned! White as snow, black tail, a little patch of black above he left eye and a confident stride. Simply handsome. And missing no more.

The Panther Queen

Lean on me.

Come back, Harley

Success - I tracked down the beautiful white cat to his owner, and learned that the cat's name is Harley. I mentioned how often he came into my garden, and now I haven't seen him once again since.

I am worrying now that the owner thought I was complaining (as if), and has chosen to lock him in doors. Aaaaah.

If I go back and ask if Harley can come out to play she'll think I'm some kind of whining cat stalker. Or worse.

Resistance - not a failing of mine

Today I went knocking door to door around the neighbourhood, carrying a photo of the white cat that has recently decided to spend every day sitting on the bench in my garden. Is it a stray? If so, I'll carry on feeding him, much to the annoyance of the other cats around here, including my own. How could I resist? If it has an owner, I'll stop feeding the cat, of course. Regretfully.

I learned that lots of people just hate cats ("the birds, the birds", they say, to which I reply "the worms, the worms".)

And I talked to people who didn't even know if next door had a cat. How could you not know such basic essentials? Shame on you all.

I tracked down the owner, and the cat's name is Harley. Sigh ....

Planned parenthood. We decided to keep it down to just 6 this year.

Image © www.kattino.se
used with author's permission

Follow me...

The Mask of Zorro

You tripped over me? Tough.

Think I'll just chill for a second.

Earlier as I was charging down the narrow stairs to get the phone Yoshka ran ahead. She stopped suddenly on the next step down from me, stretched out and started scratching her claws in the carpet in a totally relaxed and unhurried way. I only just managed not to fall head first down the stairs.

Control Freak

Cats drop hints. Subtle hints, usually. You think it's you who decides about feeding times, that she will eat when you are good and ready, and you give yourself a pat on the back for your firm approach to pet discipline. But then you look up from your computer monitor and realise that actually you're now in the kitchen, opening up a tin of food. And the only thing you remember in between is that earlier she floated for an instant somewhere in your peripheral visual field as you stared at the screen.

In Case the Rain in Spain Doesn't Fall on the Plain

Porcupine feline