Since I first saw the neighbor’s flame point I wanted to be friends (it has to be said I want to be friends with all cats, so). After getting him fixed, I was certainly persona non grata. My eldest befriended first, with the help of a few treats. Then I took the hint and gave some treats, then some surreptitious scratches. He now walks right in front of my feet demanding treats and scratches. So much so that it is hard to walk. Be careful what you wish for.

But he is such a pretty boy.

We originally put welded wire no climb fencing on the top of the chicken’s run to keep out hawks. It also works to keep out cats. Or as a platform for cat TV, depending on your perspective.

Izzy is only allowed outside in the catio without supervision. Sophie comes to the catio to ask to be let inside. Multipurpose structure. I thought this photo op too good to pass by, as they stare at each other through the divide. (They are not buddies, if you didn’t know.)

Our local pet shelters strongly recommend “If you feed them, get them spayed or neutered.” So if I helped take them out of the kitten making business, I don’t feel guilty giving them an occasional treat. Their main meal station is still my neighbor’s house, but Mr Tom is so pretty. Which is good, because his social skills need work. He is charming enough to get an egg now and again, though. Maybe one day he’ll stop greeting me with a hiss, then a meow. The hiss has no accompanying body language indicating fear or aggression (tail is high, head is high). Maybe that’s just his name for me. “Devil woman, give me treats.” Hm.

Mr Tom has a long-haired black buddy that hung out in the meadow with him before their abduction (a.k.a. neutering), that he brought with him to the egg station recently. Even though Mr Tom has a name, in my head they will now be Paul and Stevie.