November 07, 2003
Got a Present
One of the neighbors' cats brought us a present today - a dead mole on the back porch.
It's bad enough I adore someone else's cat, but she's not helping by bringing a gift, either. Tori's an outdoor cat, incredibly sweet. A Russian blue with gorgeous jade-green eyes and white socks and long white whiskers. She comes up to me when I park the car, then follows me to the porch to have a visit. I'll sit down, she hops up on my lap and meows for my ministrations. I adore her and want to take her in.
The neighbors are away and I'm not sure how often the cats are being looked after; another neighbor is picking up the slack for the people who ought to be checking on them. So I've started setting out some food and water for Tori - bad idea, I know, but I don't want her to go hungry.
I have always been a sucker for a furry little face looking at me through the back door. There was Oscar, whom I named as such, a small, pale brown tabby stray who was missing the corner of one ear - he was a rakish-looking scrapper. He was always a bit skittish, and would sometimes show his gratitude by swatting my hand as I set out some food for him. Sometimes, we'd let him come into the house. He'd venture in cautiously, then dash back out the door. I was hoping to take him in, once I made sure my other cats were up to date on their shots and all.
The day we were to head down south for Christmas, we headed to the post office to drop off some packages, a route we didn't often take. I saw something light by the side of the road. Before we got very far I asked if we could turn around, to make sure. It was poor Oscar, who must have been there for days. We ended up getting him cremated, I couldn't bear to leave him there.
I found yet another bookstore, this time in Decatur. Roaming the aisles was a gorgeous white longhair with lapis eyes. She very kindly let me give her a chin rub before I went on to peruse the offerings.
It's a small thing, but I'm always foolishly, giddily happy when a cat allows me its attentions.