Its a hard life when you're a cat
We don't have any pets ... we had two cats at one time, the circumstances under which we became catless have been dealt with elsewhere and I can't bring myself to go over that ground again.
Since we became catless we've been adopted by a stray. His is a rather sad story. He and another cat were owned by a young couple who lived a few doors away from us. They moved to the next town and on the day they moved they couldn't find him so they went without him. Although only three miles down the road they didn't come back or make any enquiries about him for a number of months.
By that time we and a set of neighbors had taken it upon ourselves to feed and comfort the stray and he'd become quite settled within a small territory, wandering from house to house pleading poverty and probably eating better than most domestic cats as a consequence.
In summer we don't see much of him as he makes his way from food bowl to sunny patch to food bowl to sunny patch and so on for week after week.
If it does happen to rain he'll pop in but he isn't very sociable, so he'll wander upstairs curl up for a sleep until the weather blows over and then pop out again: places to go, people to visit.
We've nicknamed him Monty (after Monty the Mouth from Stuart Little). He's a tough little so and so; very independent and with a distinct preference for feeding from domestic rubbish bags than from purpose-made pet food bowls.
Right now, with spring only just sprung it is rather chilly outdoors and damp under foot as well after the rain we've had in the last 24 hours. So Monty is upstairs, sound asleep. He's been there all night. He's been there most of the winter. Conserving his energies, I suppose. It takes a lot out of a cat to haul the remains of a roast chicken from the rubbish bag and drag it across the kitchen floor, as he did recently. It will take a lot out of a cat to drag his sleepy body around the back yard in search of the sun's last rays each day, come summer.
This is one animal that has not yet emerged from hibernation.
Since we became catless we've been adopted by a stray. His is a rather sad story. He and another cat were owned by a young couple who lived a few doors away from us. They moved to the next town and on the day they moved they couldn't find him so they went without him. Although only three miles down the road they didn't come back or make any enquiries about him for a number of months.
By that time we and a set of neighbors had taken it upon ourselves to feed and comfort the stray and he'd become quite settled within a small territory, wandering from house to house pleading poverty and probably eating better than most domestic cats as a consequence.
In summer we don't see much of him as he makes his way from food bowl to sunny patch to food bowl to sunny patch and so on for week after week.
If it does happen to rain he'll pop in but he isn't very sociable, so he'll wander upstairs curl up for a sleep until the weather blows over and then pop out again: places to go, people to visit.
We've nicknamed him Monty (after Monty the Mouth from Stuart Little). He's a tough little so and so; very independent and with a distinct preference for feeding from domestic rubbish bags than from purpose-made pet food bowls.
Right now, with spring only just sprung it is rather chilly outdoors and damp under foot as well after the rain we've had in the last 24 hours. So Monty is upstairs, sound asleep. He's been there all night. He's been there most of the winter. Conserving his energies, I suppose. It takes a lot out of a cat to haul the remains of a roast chicken from the rubbish bag and drag it across the kitchen floor, as he did recently. It will take a lot out of a cat to drag his sleepy body around the back yard in search of the sun's last rays each day, come summer.
This is one animal that has not yet emerged from hibernation.
posted by Enyo @ 8:12 am
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