Stray Cat Strut

You can’t see it in this picture, but just outside the door is a little paper towel with a tiny scoop of cat food on it and a couple sacrificed pieces of the leftover lunch meat – a product of my kids’ sneakiness when I wasn’t looking. What you do see is Lucci, looking back at me with pleading eyes after having spent most of the night at the sliding glass door. He’s not after the food, he could care less about that. What he cares about is the purpose behind that paper towel and kitty morsels – to feed the stray cat that has been frequenting our backyard.

I’ve seen this cat hanging out in the neighborhood for a little while. We seem to have a wave of young cats that circulate the apartments – no doubt the product of some strutting stray cat who is sowing his wild oats among any of the available females and creating a little haven of rugrats who are now hungrily peeking in backyards to see who will be suckered into giving them a few scraps – and possibly a home.

It was how we got Lucci. He was this tiny little furball, crying pitifully in my backyard for anyone to hear him. And when I opened the door he marched right in like he owned the place, sending me love through a series of loud purrs and squeaky meows. And despite my stance to avoid anything alive other than my children (I don’t exactly have the best track record. It’s a wonder my kids are still breathing…), I fell head over heels for this cuddly creature. And he gained his place as an honorary member of our family.

And he lost his manhood in the process, ensuring there would be no more little Luccis running around.

But still, the stray cat epidemic is causing a bit of a problem over at the complex I live in. One cat has even been routinely spraying my front porch with his musky scent, marking his territory even though I’m the one who’s paying rent here. I finally had to scrub down the whole area with bleach and spray it with some “Boundary” to deter the little pisser. So far, so good. But I keep expecting to smell that awful scent again.  And if I do, I’m totally peeing on my porch.

And then there’s this new stray cat. He’s orange striped and you can see the bones sticking out underneath his fur, he’s so skinny. And it’s true, he’s kind of cute. But I’ve been trying not to look too closely. I already have a cat, and am not in the market for any more. When Mr. W and I shack up next month, we’ll have a grand total of three cats. The last thing we need is a fourth.

Besides that, Lucci is up in arms. He sees this cat as a major threat. When he’s not looking at me piteously (like in the picture), he’s running at the glass door full force, trying to slam through it to get to that cat and teach it a lesson for being in HIS backyard. He’s scratching at the door, his nails doing their best to pierce the glass so he can give that kitty something to remember him by, or at least run up the glass at neck breaking speeds. He’s so worked up that his amount of monthly catballs has increased to the point that he’s yakking on our carpet on a daily basis.

But the kids are going behind our backs and feeding the damn cat – as evidenced by the paper towel that appeared overnight in our backyard with a few scraps of food.

I will not own another kitty. I will not own another kitty. I will not own another kitty.

At any rate, here’s how Lucci feels about this little intruder.