Monk

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What the cats don't eat,
the birds will finish off.

I'm not entirely happy with that,
but it is better than letting it go to the ants.

xXx

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A tense time around the cats' dish this morning.

All three cats were here and crowding the plate, wanting to eat at the same time, for the first time since kittenhood days.

Evidently, the plate isn't big enough for the three of them. Only two will eat at the same time.

Socks was the odd cat out. I watched with some concern, as Socks walked around the other cats, looking braced with his tail sticking straight up and his body stiffeningly arched. Ready to pounce? Or is it possibly fear and cowardice?

It didn't come to violence, not this morning.

Calico got up from the plate, and then Socks came to eat trepidatiously, still uncertain about the Mother Grey. Socks eventually settled down and ate. And it was Calico who now felt obligated to sit aside, following the precedent that only two at a time can crowd the plate.

I had Bo outside, and feeling that the situation looked stable, I went out front to be with Bo. When I returned, we were back to the old normal, with Calico and Socks eating together, and no sight of Mother Grey.

I guess I need to be sure to provide an ample serving of cat food in the morning, in order to preserve the peace, if peace can be preserved.

I suppose one could provide another dish, but that is one precedent I don't want to establish. We feel partial to these cats, but we don't want to open up a general cat sanctuary. This little family is more than enough.

xXx

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In a flutter of consciousness, although I want to just shake it off and fall back into the warm folds of sleepy oblivion, I check the alarm clock and see it is six-fifty-nine. I begin to stretch my hand across in a race to beat the alarm, but my arm is only halfway there when it goes off. At least it only beeps a couple of times. But the alarm won this morning!

After rushing Bo outside, I peek through the fence as the eskie takes care of his morning business, and I see Calico sitting tall by the shed looking a little betrayed. A little later, getting the water dish in preparation for the cats' feeding, I also see Socks sitting there and looking rather wide-eyed and concerned.

I don't think they like to eat in the light of day. To exposed to be out in the open of the wilds, even if it is a patio.

xXx

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One would think Monk should spare his computer and leave it off, since his bridge to the Internet is collapsed. But no. So long as his computer is not melted down, he still must boot her up, even if only for this twittery - such pretty word processing, and easy to copy & paste, too.

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I give a perfunctory look for the cats. It is not raining at the moment but it looks and feels foul, so I expect them to be hidden away and locked down. But I see Socks by the shed. They did not have anything yesterday, and Monk hurries to get some cat chow down for them.

Then the rain starts coming down, again. Priceless! I continue to prepare the food, just in case.

Socks is hungry enough that he is still game, and he eats in his quick and wary fashion. I'm disappointed to see Calico is not there. I suppose he is still hunkered down under the shed.

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I am making a full three-day weekend of "What Is the What", after all. Last night, I finished a chapter of "Caesar" and Monk could not resist beginning the novel.

It helped that he is a hundred-and-fifty pages into "Caesar" and feels like he has a fair chance of finishing it before the library season, and "What" is a good five-hundred pages, too, so that he needs to make some headway in it to have any hope of also finishing this one before the library season.

This is more the kind of problem I like.

xXx

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In "Blonde", Norma is in the country and she has taken to feeding cats. These cats won't let her pet them. They squeal and run away. Described as feral cats.

I guess that's what we have: feral cats. I would have thought the kittens were too young to be feral, but I guess they were alone long enough.

We didin't want more pets, right? But it is a disappointment. We feed them; we should get a little love in return. No?

I guess this is the difference between dogs and cats. Feed a dog a couple of times and you have a best friend for life.

xXx

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It is raining in earnest, again. Hardly surprising, but there is more disappointment in it.

This morning was only fizzly-drizzly, and then we actually got some glimmerings of sunlight upon the landscape. But if there was any native optimism left, that was dashed when I caught a CNN forecast complete with graphics showing that another wave of storms was coming from the gulf, so that we have at least one more weekend of this wet dreariness. Like an ocean pouring itself down on us.

I never thought I would be saying this in late July in the southwest, but we badly need some sun. This constant rain wears away on you and makes your nerves soggy.

On a side note, when we were in that dry spot this afternoon, I was looking out the theater window and saw Calico walking across the driveway, apparently returning to the back yard.

This may explain why we hardly see the cats at all. Their world is much bigger than our patio. We're just a pit stop now.

Well, that was the idea. We didn't want more pets. And maybe this means they won't shit so much on our lawn.

Though, there is a little disappointment in it, too.

I'm also sorry to see that they really are no longer a family anymore. Calico and Socks will sometimes eat together still, but that's about it. They don't even hang out together.

I haven't even seen the baby grey in a long time. I wonder if it is still alive. The baby is presumably the least ready to be independent, too small and too simple.

I guess that was more than a side note, but cats have a knack for stealing the show.

xXx

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Definitely seen all three kittens this morning. But they no longer seem comfortable eating together at the same time. And there was no mother grey.

Are those days of family closeness gone? The way they would all doze together in one fluffy ball. The way they would lick each other clean. The way they were more like one organism.

The kittens, espcially after that apparent fast, don't really look bigger than before. But kittenhood is over anyway?

I just hope they don't start fighting. At least not a lot and not mortally.

xXx

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Just the mother grey again when I get up. When I come back a few minutes later, I see one of the baby greys eating with her. I wish all the kitties were there, but this is an improvement.

However, the mother grey starts lifting her paw and striking at the head of the baby grey. I'm taken aback. It is as though the mother grey has gotten used to having the plate to herself and feels crowded - with just one of the kittens.

I would have thought after the separation that there would be nothing but happy love.

When I see the mother grey getting aggressive again, I slide the door open, making my presence known. My intentions were communicated surprisingly well. The mother grey seemed to understand perfectly what this is about. She backs away, and the baby grey continues eating.

The mother grey eventually leaves altogether, slinking back to the dead branches. The baby grey stops eating, and I think she meows in disappointment over the mother's absence, walking away as well.

What made feeding them nice was how they were such a loving family. Healthy. I hate to think that I got a dysfunctional family now. Another Stormy Dreamer. Maybe mothering is too much for most females.

xXx

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Just when you get used to being dry again,
a stormy night breaks on your head.

This rain would have been nice
in another couple of weeks,
when the lawn actually might need another drink,
but not now.

It was so nice to take the trash out back
without going through an elaborate routine
to keep your feet dry and clean.

At least the mother grey blew back into town this morning.
But now the kittens aren't here,
still hiding underground,
shy after the storm, presumably.

Though, the morning is now sunny bright,
more spring than summer.

The mother grey, perched on the patio table, looks inside
and sees Bo with Monk,
and I think she knows
this cannot be her home, after all.
She is gone now.

xXx

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No cats this morning. And I didn't see the mother grey return last night. I don't think she has to go out on her rounds, but I suppose she feels too cooped up staying in the back yard all the time - too much of a wild thing. I fear the day she never makes it back, killed or hopelessly lost.

My morbid imagination sees her unwittingly walking up to a couple of large dogs lying quietly on the ground, and then getting ripped apart in a failed bid to escape, that desperate run and primal fear. Losing. The kittens left behind and needy.

xXx