Chicago, the feral feline who generally approaches like a streak of black lightning, is alive and well. I was getting worried after the cold snaps of January and February. I don't know what the little bugger is doing but he is clearly resourceful.
And vocal. Friday night, I was walking in my parking lot and heard the familiar mournful howl. I sometimes suspect that Chicago is a "she" and in heat (seriously). Maybe the fiesty fireball imprinted on me as a kitten, and is doomed to some vain, unrequited love. That would be a perfect reversal of my high-school years.
Anyway, I brought out the good stuff -- a tin of Fancy Feast (salmon). Chicago was skittish at first but as I backed away, the power of seafood took over.
2 comments:
Perhaps you could grace these pages with a photograph of said attack cat? Curious as to the appearance of your "familiar."
Cheers,
Stacey
No recent pics but here's some from last year check 'em out
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