Our little gravel road is crawling with cats. For the past few years, the no-tailed cat with the a meow as big as his body has considered our neighborhood his happy hunting ground. But apparently, he’s been bragging a little to loudly about the fat, tasty mice, chipmunks, tree squirrels, shrews, and bunny rabbits who rent space around here. His word of mouth advertising has been highly effective with stray cats, hungry after a long, cold winter. Why else has our woodsy lane become a cat magnet?
Every time I look up from my computer screen and glance out the window, the newcomers wave and lick their whiskery lips. Old No-Tail strolls by every day or two, looking like he owns the place. For a few days, a fluffy calico camped under the juniper bushes and stalked the maple tree inhabited by an industrious squirrel family. This morning, Fluffy was replaced by a fuzzy, white feline with big splashes of yellow. She snuck up behind the squirrel and nearly touched its tail with a paw. In the nick of time, the squirrel jumped three feet in the air and skedaddled up the tree trunk.
A little bit ago, I walked to the mailbox, laughing at the memory of Splash’s disappointment and the squirrel’s big leap. When I shook my head, something beyond the bushes along the driveway caught my eye. It was a small, mangy, gray-striped cat. Crouched near a chipmunk hole, it held its long, striped tail motionless and blinked menacingly as I passed by.
I could see what it was thinking.
What’s with all the humans invading our neighborhood? Apparently, the long, cold winter didn’t kill them off like we hoped. Every year, as soon as the weather improves, they start clomping around and scare off dinner, the idiots.
If Mangy only knew how pleased I am to share the neighborhood rodents with him and his buddies, I think we could co-exist admirably.
If the cats keep their distance, of course, since their fur makes me sneeze.
If they’re willing to pack up and move elsewhere the weekend of July 11 when our daughter gets married in our yard.
If they promise to leave the birds alone.
If they promise not to pee on my flowers.
If they root Mickey and Minnie out of the garage without leaving muddy paw prints on my car.
Reaching a mutually satisfactory agreement could be tricky. Anybody out there trained in human/cat arbitration? Give me a call!
