We have two cats and that’s not by choice. Tiger is the inherited cat and Foster is the well…foster cat. He just showed up on our doorstep one day as a kitten and he’s still here. They are both outside cats. Tigger was an inside cat, but we ran her out as soon as we inherited her. I know that sounds bad, but there were four in that house at the time and in an eleven hundred forty square foot house that was four cats and cat boxes too many!
These cats can not be caught. Every now and then you can reach down and have a quick pet and then off they run. They aren’t cuddly or playful. They just sleep and eat. Foster does like to earn his keep by delivering dead mice or a half eaten squirrel to our front door a couple of times a week.
Now don’t feel sorry for Foster and Tigger because I have let H take of the care of them and he takes care of them very well for someone who isn’t partial to cats. I’d take to them a little better if they were not so neurotic and such big fraidy cats. At least Tigger is a fraidy cat. She’s never brought us a mouse or squirrel. Maybe she’s just lazy.
They wait in the driveway every evening for H to return home and as he opens the front door they cautiously walk in behind him meowing to let him know it is dinner time. They sit and watch him prepare their food and then walk out the back door behind him to eat. That is the extent of their time indoors. In the mornings they are waiting at the back door for him to bring breakfast.
For breakfast they have a bowl of dry cat food. It stays out all day so they can nibble whenever they want. It also feeds a menagerie of turtles, birds and squirrels and a possum or two at dusk. Inside those bowls come for the night so the raccoons don’t dirty up the water bowl washing their food. And we live in the city limits!
For their evening meal Tigger and Foster get to split a can of cat food. Yum-yum. Every now and then Foster is off prowling and misses his dinner. H puts his share in the fridge in a ziplock bag and if he makes it home before bedtime he will serve it to him on his very own paper plate.
Last night I heard H in the kitchen preparing the cat food meal. He doesn’t just dump it out. He divides it and chops it up with a spoon. I can’t watch. The smell makes me nauseous. You know that smell. I suddenly heard the microwave door open and then close and start. Hmmm?
“Please don’t tell me you put that cat food in my microwave.”
“It’s cold. It’s been in the refrigerator.”
Soooo. You want to know what smells worst than canned cat food? Warmed up cat food of course!