I hear her now throughout the day, outside windows and doors, mewing. She’s been hanging around for a few days, peering into the windows and doors when we leave the blinds cracked or the inside door ajar. Sally has barely noticed but Jack has spent a fair amount of time opposite the glass, rolling around and rubbing his head toward her, only to be met with mirrored rolling, rubbing action. Somebody’s in neutered loooooove. I can’t let them hang out because he’s not up on his shots. And the kitty can’t exactly come in because we’re paranoid about fleas and such, not to mention my pregnant-ness. We’ve put a couple of dishes of food out for her and she’s eaten them ravenously. I can’t tell if she’s young or just small. Both, maybe. I peg her at about a year old. She’s thin but not skinny. Very sweet, always trying to dart in the door. I could have sworn not long ago I heard her kill a bird and bring it to the door. I opened up, expecting to see a robin carcass but it turns out I was just imagining things.

This kitty is an estranged sibling of Jack and Sally. She hangs out on my parents’ porch and sleeps a lot, and sometimes mewls her scraggly mewls.

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And I would not feel a shred of shame.

Update: I’m serious. I can’t stop.

My pal D salvaged this street art for me. The cat is winking. Tee hee.

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HT: Sigalicious

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ATTACK CAT! from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo.

Crossposted at The Memphis Blog (which you should be reading religiously).

Django secretly loves me (he would never admit it in mixed company) and Geisha still looks at me with the eyes of a crackhead.

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Sophie (Jack and Sally’s mom) had a litter back in March and they’ve been living in the basement at my parents’ house. My dad can only handle so many animals in the house at one time, and four kittens on top of two cats and three dogs is four kittens too many. (Maybe they will finally get Sophie spayed now. Although, if I were a betting man, I’d bet that he will be completely attached to the kittens before it’s said and done. And I would also bet that Sophie is probably already pregnant again. Kitty abortion time! Bob Barker would be okay with that, and Bob Barker should be everyone’s moral compass.) So I put out the call and have gotten bites on three of the four. The silver tabby was the first to go, and Jen has got her hands full, I think.

I’m curious to see if this cat will be like the others from its blood line and be completely unwilling to drink out of a water bowl and demand the running tap.

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For the record, this is NOT one of my cats. (My cats can’t kill anything except my patience. And silence, sweet silence.) This viciously cute little fluffball is a younger sibling to my cats, still residing with my parents. This is either Johnna, Paula, or Georgie (not sure, I can’t tell them apart, and besides, one of them has been renamed “Connie” because, according to my mother, she has a contemplative look about her), who was tossing this poor dead cardinal around with reckless abandon when I came home from the mechanic’s on Thursday morning.

Oh, speaking of mechanics. The car ended up needing a new spark plug and ignition coil. $83 for parts and labor. Not too shabby. She runs like a beaut now. Except for the loud-ass window-tape flapping that grows worse and worse as my ghetto window falls into the crack atop the door.

So I guess that’s next on my list.