Café Life

Ghost Cat? Yes, I think this be him.

It doesn’t pay to be too overly shy here at Bob and Donna’s Famous Valhalla Diner. Snooze ya lose.

OK, not true, not true at all. If I see you on the porch, even if you zip away from my scary, frowzy self, I’ll bring out a plate of Friskies. You should come back in a timely manner though so as not to lose your brekkie to other opportunistic feline, possum and/or skunk guests.

Reservations are advised.

Jen tells me that Ghost Cat is back and looks/seems quite healthy. We hadn’t seen him all winter. I’m so damn happy and relieved.

Being a bit lame has, if anything, increased his appetite

With his return, we have three, count ‘em THREE, black and grey tigers frequenting the café. All are timid as hell and I can’t tell them apart – they’re just clouds of striped, panicked fur. I’ll show this pic to Jen. She has no trouble distinguishing between Ghost, Blossom and Zeus and will totes know if this is our phantom boy.

Blossom, by the by, is our Republican neighbor’s fat cat. I don’t feel the guilt if/when she’s edged out by other customers. Sure I worry about her (they obvs feed her but maybe they aren’t giving her enough love!) but guilt's not riding me strong enough to put out an extra plate. OK, there was that one time….maybe two or, possibly, three...

It's finally spring and Coco's thrilled!

Umlaut, after a very brief absence, has returned. He’s limping, poor kitten, but seems otherwise OK. I didn’t detect any gashes or other random damage, he’s got a very good appetite and he doesn’t flinch when I pat his head or skritch his chin (which tells me he’s not, apart from the bum leg, in pain). So, Jen and I are thinking he did NOT join a Fight Club and, may’ve just taken a nasty fall. She also says that, over the past few days, he seems to be getting better. HOPE!

And then there’s our faded out, practically achromatic, calico friend Silver. She’s become a regular but is still too timid to so much as meet my eyes. Ghost, frightened feline though he is, will stare at me. I’m guessing he figures that, if he focuses in hard enough, I’ll transform into a big bowl of kibble and tuna. Failing that, mebbe I’ll vanish and stop scaring his poor self.

It could happen!

Where’s my precious princess in all this? For starters, she’s very happy to have me home. How can I tell? Coco’s got to be on my lap, around my neck or, at minimum, in the same room with me at all times. I only mention it but one CAN get a good night’s sleep with a cat perched on one’s hip. Really!