Busted! The Neighborhood Cat

 

by Pa Rock

Meal Ticket

"Of all of God's creatures, there is only one that cannot be made the slave of the lash.  That one is the cat.  If man could be crossed with the cat, it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the cat."  Mark Twain

Several days ago I wrote about a neighbor of mine who grew up in the house that I currently occupy.  He likes to stop by sometimes in the afternoon and sit on the back deck where he tells tales about growing up in what I regard as "my" house, and all of the things that he and his brothers did as they played across the massive yard.

One evening as we were sitting out back enjoying a lazy conversation, "my" old yellow tomcat came walking across the backyard.  It was an odd occurrence, because the cat, who seldom misses his breakfast at first light of day, usually follows that up with a short nap and then traipses across the road and into the woods where I suspected he would spend the rest of the day hunting.   Sometimes, on very hot summer afternoons, he comes back to my place and dozes in the opening to the barn loft where he has a good view of much of the yard and pond.  I assume that while he snoozes in the barn, he is also on the lookout for some four-footed, unsuspecting snacks.

But as the neighbor and I sat on the back deck that afternoon, here came the old yellow tom, who, although I have been feeding him breakfast for the past five years or so, I have never bothered to name.  As the cat made his way slowly across the backyard heading in the direction of the barn, my neighbor suddenly said, "Hey, there's my cat.  I wonder what he's doing over here?"

I explained to the neighbor that the old tom was actually "my" cat and that he had been having breakfast at my place for years.  That may well be, the neighbor replied, but he has the rest of his meals across the street at my house, and he has for years.

The old cat obviously belonged to no one.  He was just a free spirit who had developed and refined a meal schedule that met his needs.   Being a tomcat, he undoubtedly "sleeps around" on occasion - as evidenced by the fact that he sometimes limps into breakfast with scars from a catfight the night before, and now it appears that he "eats around" as well.  

Why, he may not even hunt at all!

Cat, now that you have finally revealed your true and sneaky self, I believe that from this day forward I will call you "Busted!"  Mark Twain had you figured out, and now I do, too!

Happy meals!