For the sake of clarity, I shall call "our" cat Ginger. Yes he is often called just "Cat", but I am no Audrey Hepburn, looking unbelievably glamourous and beautiful in the pouring rain running down an alley calling "Cat! Cat!"
At times he is Cattums, Kitty Boy, Scoodgums, Furry Purry Boy, Schnookie-wookums. But let's stick with Ginger.
Or just Cat.
Big Ginger, his brother, has a new name too. He is Bagpuss. UK (and possibly other?) readers will know what I mean. He looks like Bagpuss (now that I've seen him close-up). So, Bagpuss he is.
Saturday morning, before the rains came, was indeed Cat Central out there.
That's little Blackie on the right, of course. Mr Black-and-White (could be Ms, who knows) is new to me, a new addition to this fine, cat-filled garden. They merely all kind of looked at each other for a bit, then spread out, doing their own thing.
Now, some people go to great lengths to deter cats from their gardens, and I can understand to a certain extent. Cats will poo in the borders. There are all sorts of products out there on the market. Before Ginger came resoundingly into our lives, I toyed with the idea of possibly keeping the hoardes at bay by using lemon, which I had heard cats don't like. In all fairness I would never use anything stronger, chemicals or sounds, but to each his own. Then, of course, with the advent of Ginger, deterrent was no longer an option. So, I put up with shovelling up some cat poop from the borders as necessary. But even without Ginger, I wouldn't trade the delight and fascination these guys give me almost every day!
Morning, or early evening in the summer if the weather is fair, seems to be a popular time. I was late for work in the week, because there is yet another newbie, in the shape of a grey tabby. Ginger doesn't like him. There was a cat face-off on the fence which had me enthralled, until I realised the time, and the fact that they could sit there like that for hours, making that wailing noise! I'm am fascinated by a good cat face-off. This was one last year.
I am learning (or re-learning?) cat speak. I think I can tell when he wants more food, or wants to go out (but that's always a bit fuzzy for me at 5 in the morning. One time I put him out, only to have him hiss at me because what he really wanted was food. Fair enough, can't blame him). So that wail, if I hear it and can't see Ginger, I've stopped getting all uptight thinking he's in trouble - he's just encountering some or other cat.
As he did later on Saturday morning; Black&White again. I heard the wail, rushed out, only to see both on the right fence, towards the front.
In the end Ginger opted for a dignified retreat. He's no fool.
And then there was Bagpuss Saturday morning as well - Oh, Bagpuss. More on him soon ...