Deliver me from stray cats.

Night before last, there was a gray and white cat on our back porch. Larger than a kitten, smaller than an adult cat. A teenager? Cute as a button, but aren't they all? And skinny, skinny, skinny.... so of course I went out there with a bowl of dry cat food. (Took me all of three seconds to get from the kitchen window to the bag of cat food and then get out on that porch.... such a knee-jerk reaction to lost and lonely furry animals.)

The cat jumped off the porch when I opened the door, landing in the flowerbeds and meowing all the way. "Ye-owl" is what it really sounded like. Either the cat hadn't yet learned how to pronounce meow or the ye-owl was actually meow with a west Texas twang. I did my Kitty-kitty-kitty call to her, but all she did was ye-owl back at me from underneath the bushes. After the second mosquito bite on my ankles, I just put the bowl down on the porch and came back inside. (I think it was a girl, but I made the same mistake with Sweet Pea.)

Quick as a flash, that cat was back on the porch and munching away on the dry food. Starving cat, for sure. Stray, for sure. Why must the stray cats find their way to our porch? I told my husband about the cat, telling him in the same breath that we're not keeping it. No way, no how, no thank you. Off to the shelter it will go, if we can catch it.

"But first we'll get some meat on those bones," my husband said. He agreed the stray would have to go to the shelter..... it's young enough and cute enough to get itself adopted. I looked at Sweet Pea and told him "You are the last cat. Go look in the mirror-- you are the last cat."

Last night after dinner, I looked for the stray. Not a sign of her. Or him, whatever the case may be. But I put out a bowl of dry cat food, and made sure there was water out there in the large bowl meant for the cats but used mostly by the chickens when they're in the side yard and don't want to walk back to the coop for a drink.

I kept looking out the kitchen windows last night, wondering if the stray would come back, but hoping it had somehow found another cat-friendly back porch. By the time we went up to bed last night, the dry food was still untouched and I left it out there. Just in case. This morning, the little dish had just three tiny pieces of cat food in it, and the water bowl wasn't as full as I had left it. And Gatsby's pillow, always on a chair near the backyard deck, was upside-down on the porch, toppled from the chair just as it was the first night when the stray pulled it down. Either the stray was trying to get into Gatsby's pillow, or that was the stray cat's way of letting the other cats know they've got company.

Haven't seen a whisker of the stray cat today, but the same thing happened the first day. I even looked all through the barn yesterday, hoping to find its hiding place. Either he's off in the woods in the shade of the trees during the day, or he's found himself a good hiding place on our property. Safe and hidden from the hot sun, then coming out for his dinner late at night.

Truly, we will not keep this cat. I won't totally ignore it, because it's starving and hungry, and bowls of food and fresh water on the back porch every night is the least I can do.

We have enough house pets (the dog and three cats). We have enough yard pets (the chickens). We (I) have enough to take care of when it comes to mouths to feed, fur to brush, litter boxes to clean, etc., etc., etc..

With house pets, it's always the etc. that comes back to haunt you.