We’ve a packed, happy house.The other morning, while we were on the porch with Bast’s gift to humanity — coffee — John commented, “you sure have a lot of critters.” Gus, who’s def back in the fold now, had just stopped in for brekkie.
Rocco’d been by early needing his usual 832 pats, a good brushing, his morning repast plus treats and then some chin skritches. Our princess, Coco, was in my arms, paying keen attention to the movement of every bird, blade of grass and passing stray leaf. Good guard kitten.Earlier, friend Flower (the skunk) had stopped in to finish up Rocco’s meal (our boy rarely cleans his plate). Flower’s not just magnificently beautiful, he’s also considerate. He’s able to share the porch with our herd ‘o’ cat — no spraying. Good skunk.
In Jen and Oni’s house, Skitter, being a skittery sort, hides out. Conversely, Thelma lays about prominently like the Grande Dame that she is, just waiting for the next soul to come along to genuflect before her awesomeness and offer her gifts of treats and pats.Gus enjoys all the fresh attention too. That boy’s not very skilled at the feral shit. I suspect he’ll be an indoor beast by the first snow.
I think I saw Gaston while out for my ride the other day. I miss him dearly but, given his air raid siren tendencies, I may be the only one.Juda the Wookie bunks in with us since Coco’s less likely than Thelma or Skitter to rip his poor elderly hide to shreds (though she has threatened but in an understated, elegant sort of way — of course). What this means is that I have the morning poop patrol walk. Joy. It’s OK — I’m up anyway. Our early rising neighbors, already accustomed to seeing me dash down to the seawall, camera in hand, in big frowzy green robe and Dr. Seuss jammies, now get to witness me in slo-mo as I stroll and stoop to scoop Wookie turds.
My life is dazzlingly glamorous — nicht wahr?
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