We have a running verbiage here. It was in place when I came, and I've adopted it full-heartedly: EVERYBODY EATS.
Everybody has their place, too.
Tiger Kitty is the one pictured with that silly Swan [that'd be me, folks! ha!] in my current profile photo. Obviously, I'm deigned to be allowed the favor of receiving her affection. She's the only one of the ferals I can pick up, or so much as touch.
I can almost get a petting hand on Little Bit...
Used to she'd bolt at my mere presence in the doorway, or driveway, or anywhere else within her sight. But, mayhap because of some slow comprehension of The Hand That Feeds...
No longer does she retreat. In fact, she is quite vociferous every late morn whence Swanboi ventures out with the cuppa Friskies. I did get a sneaky love-stroke at her ear a few days back, but it were not well-tolerated. I'll count meself blessed if ever I can get a gentle petting in.
There are, current count, four other known and recognised ferals, and an oddball occasional one [likely a TomDaddy, given Tigerbabys' and Rooks'* tabby stripes]-- not to mention a rare visit by Leo, one of the neighbors' yardkitty. For the most part, any opening of the front door produces, from them, cat-scatter-- no, not as smelly as it sounds! HA!
Today I got sneaky-lucky...
I'm not sure if this is Doppleganger or L'il Momma:
They're remarkably similar. Might be both, I can download these pictures and study them a bit closer. The one we call Beautiful hath much more white. Peaches is splotchy-tabby -- dark stripes-and-mottled-tan on grey.
No chance I'll ever get a paw on any of them. [Mayhap some day a picture, mais...]
Mais, I'm good with that. In return for a few cups of food a day-- pennies, if I cared to do the math-- the casa has a great gamut of rodent control. Nary a cucaracha hath e'er been spotted. Voles, mice, and any other burrowing critter aren't likely to stand much of a chance within 50 yards of the place. I suspect even small rabbits, what might likes nibble on immature lettuce, spinach, and cabbages, are also S.O.L; at the very least, they gotta be hi-on weary! ha!
Treats go out-- part of the recycling and minimal waste: leftover mac&cheese? Unsure bologna? A pad o' butter never made it to a biscuit?
"Here, kitty kitty!!"
No sour milk down the drain-- if it ever has a chance to sour! Leftovers from a night out [Post-Borders Books Thor's Day treats compliments of Momlady..]? A weak birdling kicked outa the nest by a sibling? [Sucks to be you, my feathered cousin, mais... welcome to Ma Nature. And, better than a slow death via fireants. Seriously...] Nope; nada waste if it can tempt a palate-- and a petting! HA!
Sure, I'm not above bribing. But... I'm also a witch. I'm a tree-hugging dirt-worshipper. And damn proud to be so.
And thankful I were able to garner a cool close-up or three on the day...
Slainte, folks. You ever need a bite to eat, or a bed, well... if we got it, you know the adage now. We'd be honored, too...
*Rook Rook's tabby stripes, visible underneath the black coat [in the right light] was, at one time, one of the ferals-- a sister to Tiger and L'il Bit. She was rescued by Kyddryn when a wolfworm was discovered festering in her gullet. I'm pretty much responsible for her now being trapped behind the glass
-- a tough life, oui?!!-- and undoubtedly responsible for her name. But, that's fodder for another blog! HA!