Cat Lady

Well, the cricket died thankfully. I believe he may have been a victim of an equally persistent Beans. (In case you missed it - here's the story.)

Normally I'd be rejoicing at the prospect of a good nights sleep - but the same day that "chirps" as the kids so named him died, a relatively young cat in the neighborhood has decided that she likes our house, thank you very much, and she is now very vocal in her demands of food and shelter.

I first saw her as a streak in my vision - and wasn't entirely certain that I wasn't seeing things. When I saw the bag of dog food that had been dug into with teeth and claws, I was nearly certain that the black streak was indeed feline. Once you've been owned by a cat, you never forget what that sort of claw carnage looks like.

Charles saw her next confirming that I was not, in fact, seeing things.

She's taken to perching on the ledge of a window by our front door. At first she's not noticeable, but then as the house quiets and people fall asleep you can hear her faint Siamese-esk yowling. It's intensity deepens as the night grows darker or until the dogs wake from their food slumber and jar the house wake the entire house with their racket.

By the sound of our greyhound Squirt's barking, you'd think the poor cat was trying to heist gold or dog treats. Beans' sharp barks bring to mind the memory of an old 'Bugs Bunny' cartoon in which the house dog yaps at the highly anxious Sylvester - only I'm the poor 'Puddy Tat' this time around.

Somehow theb'Oy and Dot manage to sleep through the entire racket, and while Charles rustles a bit, he too sleeps through the racket.

It's no wonder why I coffee and I are fast friends.