Some of you gentle readers are aware that we leased our house for several years from a cat that let us live there for two bowls of food a day and all the water she could drink. Then, this last summer, she took herself off to cat heaven (or maybe to cat hell — a more likely destination for that one).
Since then, we have had a few cats come around and interview us as to whether they thought we were soft touches enough to keep feeding them.
So far, none is interested. I always thought cats would come around and be grateful if you left food out, but these cats are prima donnas.
One of them is of the tortoise shell variety, and the other is what’s known as a ragamuffin.
The tortoise shell is dainty as a butterfly and shy as a hummingbird. On the days I fill the food bowls, she stands about 20 feet away until I get through and go back into the house. Then she creeps to the patio, takes a few sips of water and begins eating, one kibble at a time. If I go outside while she is thus engaged, she leaps into the air and zips on tippy toes back to where she was hiding.
The ragamuffin cat is just slightly smaller than a mother bear, and she pounces on the food dish before I can get it filled. When she eats, the kibble flies all over, and the water is slurped up until there is no more.
Then, they both disappear. Which suits me fine.
The tortoise shell cat won’t come into the house for any reason.
The ragamuffin, on the other hand, will barge in the back door, prowl the kitchen and the other rooms, have a little lie down, and if the TV set is on, she’ll go watch it. But as soon as the kibble bag comes out, she’s at the back door waiting. And as soon as she’s had her fill, she disappears without so much as a thank you or a “boy howdy.”
So that is our cat situation right now. With any luck, they will both stop coming around and leave us alone.