So, How’s the Herd?

Ghost Cat is making big, BIG advances. OK, in the grand scheme of things this is very tiny progress. He still won’t be on the porch if any human types are around BUT he doesn’t run away when he spies me watching him from behind the closed front door. That AND he, regularly but not always, comes when I call him for meals.

In true crazy cat lady form, when I bring his dish out in the morning and evening, I call“Ghost Cat – breakfast!! “Ghost Cat – time for dinner!” Later, when I peek out the window to see if he’s eaten, he’s either right there or there’s evidence that he’s snarfed and jetted.

Jen’s observed, on frequent occasion, our cautious boy sitting in the yard, near the porch steps but out of my sightline. After I ring the chuck wagon bell, he zips right up the stairs. Huh. Waddayaknow. How long before he becomes our next porch dweller? How long before he moves inside?

Jack, Jen’s father, is visiting for a few days. Last night she had me tell the story of how Rocco went from guarded, feral loner to utter schmooze beast. I was reminded, we’re coming up on the two year anniversary of our boy’s bold move indoors.

While both Rocco and Coco love it when I comb through their coats, our former feral practically swoons with joy when I bring out his brush. Now that it’s obscenely hot (supposed to hit 96º today!!!), they’re both shedding like mad. Tumbleweeds of black cat fur roll through the house.             

Coco is NOT keen on my new knitting habit. At least not while she’s on my lap.  Well, to be more precise, I believe she sees the needles as enemy provocateurs. She swats at them with all her jungle warrior kitten might. Good kitten.

Skitter, Jen’s wild little princess, let me pat her yesterday! Though she was on her own, a free kitten in the big, barbarous world for just the first four months of her five years, she’s still MEGA cautious. Understandably. Humans are remarkably, reliably inhuman.

Then there’s Thelma. Thelma’s such an old girl – 20 now. She used to be an incredible, little sneak terrorist. No one could ever imagine that this tiny, fluffy, grey feline could be a death (OK…slash) dealing assassin. She used to go all Tasmanian devil at the drop of a hat. Now, she’s the Mellow Queen.

So, there we go – the mid-August Creature Report. Ya know who I’ve not seen in forever? Our skunk friends. Huh. Hope they’re OK!