That cat...

Give me a blessed break.

I love cats. Truly I do. However, I like well-mannered and friendly cats who behave nicely in and around our home. Is that too much to ask of the cat gods?

The orange cat does not 'play nicely with others,' as friend C said today.

This afternoon was our usual Waldorf Wednesday tea.... every Wednesday at my house... the ladies in our little community come for tea and sweets and savories.... and conversation, of course. And today, we talked about that orange cat.  As each of my friends arrived today, the orange cat was right there in a corner of the porch, meowing at some of them, being silent for others, just watching as everyone came up the porch stairs and walked into the back door.  Which was a 'first' for the orange cat because he used to run off the porch when anyone other than myself or my husband came up the steps.  So I have to wonder if those little meows to the ladies was his way of saying "I'm baaaaaaack."

As I said, give me a blessed break with this cat.

I will admit that the orange cat has been somewhat mellow since his journey back here... he traveled about seven miles from the Lake back to this porch. How in the world? I am still shaking my head at his adventure. My husband keeps saying we have to admire his persistence. Well, yes, I do, but I also have to remember all the scratches and bites from that cat, and those are not to be admired.  So far, he has not scratched me, but I have also not petted him, nor have I even gotten close to him... I just put the food down on the porch and walk away as he looks at me and meows pitifully.

One of my friends today suggested that I name the cat "Boomerang," and all things considered, that name is appropriate. However, once I give this cat a real name, then he becomes a real cat here, and he belongs to us and we're responsible for his total welfare, not merely responsible for making sure he has a bowl of Meow Mix on the porch when he's hungry.

I do not want another cat. Period. As it stands now, we have Sweet Pea in the house, Gatsby on the porch unless the weather is not to his liking, and Mickey Kitty outside during the day, inside the garage at night, and Mickey is forbidden to come into the house anymore because of his questionable litter-box habits (or lack thereof).

And now we have that orange cat back. Again. The cat gods are out to get me. This is my punishment for driving that cat to the Lake on March 12th and doing what I have forever detested other people doing.... I abandoned that cat because I could no longer be patient with his biting, scratching, and general misbehavior.  And bringing him to the shelter would have been certain death for that blasted cat. I thought I was giving him another chance at a brand new life in the next town.

Little did I know that I was giving him a twelve-day adventure allowing him to ultimately cement the thought in my brain that perhaps that blasted orange cat is just supposed to be here.

Friend S across the road tells me that her father will take this orange cat to his ranch, which his 75 miles away from here..... the orange cat will then be one of his 'barn cats,' protecting that man's store of cattle feed from being devoured by field mice.  But before S's father can do that, I have to wait until the orange cat will trust the little cat bed that's inside the cat-carrier. It may be many months before he's willing to do that, but I'll be patient with him... just like I was for the whole of last year.... and sooner or later, he will be curled up in that little bed of his and the door can be shut on that carrier and then I'll call S and say that her dad's new barn cat is ready to be picked up.

I wonder how long it will take the orange cat to get back here after being driven 75 miles away to a cattle-rich ranch....