Why yes…

Gus

Trixie

Gaston

 

Now that you mention it, it IS Caturday!

I was feeling all sentimental and shit last night. I was thinking about Trixie and how Coco had gargantuan objections to her moving inside. (Trixie now lives with a very nice, lucky woman in Portland, Maine). There was Gus. Jen and Oni still miss that fuzzy little Eddie Haskell terribly (now in a lovely forever home elsewhere in town). Gaston (AKA Loud Boy) and how much I miss him—I seem to be alone in this. G-boy just stopped showing up. I dearly hope one of his other feeder/cosseter/suckers took him inside.

Now, visiting but not living on our porch, we have Ghost Cat, Fritz and Ignatz. None of our new kittens are keen on humans. They don’t yet know that I’m their friend and doormat. I leave a bowl or two of food out at breakfast and dinner and then make myself scarce so as not to scare them. Jen’s gotten a better look see at Fritz and Ignatz. She tells me that Fritz is a mondo Maine Coon Cat—just enormously furry. Ignatz is big too but not as much of a wooly mammoth.

Sargeant Rocco

Princess Coco

Meanwhile indoors: Rocco remains a big ol’ ferally sweetie boy—running into the depths of our closet the minute anyone comes inside (he's a schmooze monster with me though and sometimes he'll allow TAB pat him). He sticks to the second floor for the most part and Coco reigns supreme on the first. That is, unless they’re in passive aggressive mode where they sneak food from each other’s bowls or take strafing run slashes in the opposing team's litter box.

Rocco overslept this morning. This was concerning (he’s not a young thing anymore) until I realized that he likely had a tuna hangover. He and Coco each had a big plate of it last night for dinner. Conversely, our relatively youthful princess was zooming all over the joint. She was bouncing off the walls and zipping up and down the basement stairs.

Tuna. Quite the heavy drug. Clearly.

Black and orange stray cat sittin' on a fence
Ain't got enough dough to pay the rent
I'm flat broke, but I don't care
I strut right by with my tail in the air

Stray cat strut, I'm a (Ladies' cat)
I'm a feline Casanova (Hey, man, that's where it's at)
Get a shoe thrown at me from a mean old man
Get my dinner from a garbage can

Meow
Yeah, don't cross my path

I don't bother chasing mice around, oh, no
I slink down the alley looking for a fight
Howling to the moonlight on a hot summer night
Singin' the blues while the lady cats cry
"Wild stray cat, you're a real gone guy
I wish I could be as carefree and wild
But I got cat class, and I got cat style" 

Meow 

Stray Cat Strut—Stray Cats