Things That Go Bark in the Night...

We were awake this morning at 4, listening to the dog bark.  There was a sense of urgency in her bark, and it was punctuated with growls.  He said “it’s cats….” but I wondered.   Cinnamon barks at cats all the time, but she doesn’t growl….

I went outside to see what she was up to but it was too dark (it usually is in the middle of the night….).  He brought out a flashlight and, shining it on the potato bush along the fence, there it was.  Not a cat, or cats…..

A possum.

He wasn’t frightened by the light, the dog, or us.  He just sat there calmly on the fence and stared at us.  Cinnamon was still barking furiously, yet she seemed amused that “mom and dad” had joined her in the backyard.  Bark, bark, bark, growl, bark, growl….

Still, the possum didn’t move.  He wasn’t “playing possum”….he was staring at us, then at the dog, then back at us.  Perhaps he is acclimated to humans?  And dogs?  And the four or five cats that live in our alley?

It seemed rather obvious that the only way to get Cinnamon to stop barking was to convince the possum to leave…..  Have you ever tried that?  Neither had I…

So, armed with a hose with a spray nozzle, he aimed it at the possum and turned it on.  The possum moved from one side of the potato bush to the other, then back again.  At one point, he turned around and we got to stare at his soggy, wet behind

.

And then, he disappeared….

Was he really gone?  Cinnamon was still quite antsy but she had stopped barking.  He got a piece of PVC pipe and started poking it into the foliage of the potato bush.  Nothing.  No movement, no sounds except the rustling of the leaves as the PVC passed through.

Is he gone?  Will he be back?

I “ordered” Cinnamon to get in her bed and miraculously, she did.  She seemed calmer now that the possum had disappeared.  I felt comforted that she couldn’t smell him, hear him, or sense his presence, so maybe the possum hunt was over….

I went back to bed but I couldn’t sleep.  I kept waiting for Cinnamon to start barking again, but she didn’t.

There’s always tonight…..

Cali

Kat....

It's the middle of the night and I can't sleep. Nothing's wrong, or worrying me, I just can't sleep.

I went out to the kitchen to get a drink of water and woke the dogs up. They sleep in the laundry room, just off the kitchen. Of course, if one of their people is nearby, there's a chance of getting a cookie...

Not tonight, girls, go back to sleep...

As I walked back through the living room, I noticed that the neighbors across the street still have the lights on in their family room. And the wife's car is gone. I hope things are okay. They have a big, extended family and something is always going on over there.

And on my front lawn, settling in, is Kat.....

We first made his acquaintance about a year ago. He would come around every once in awhile and nap on the wicker settee on my front porch. As soon as I pulled in the driveway, or walked out the door, he was off in a flash. Gone to nap somewhere else.

Over time, he began spending more time here. Enough time, in fact, that we would notice when we hadn't seen him for awhile. By then, we had named him Orange Kat, which has shortened to just Kat in the last month or so.

I don't feed him. He's a feral cat, all big and roly poly and orange. Right now, his fur stands and swirls in funny patterns, and he leaves patches of it for our enjoyment. His tail is gone, or never was there. He doesn't look like a Manx mix, so I have no idea what happened to his tail....

In the past few days, he has been limping. It seems to be his right rear leg that 's bothering him. We don't know if he was hit by a car, or hurt in some other way. In any case, it concerns me. I feel some sense of belonging to him, and he has come to accept me as a perpetual nuisance to be tolerated. He does “talk” to me when I talk to him, though.

We don't have any real conversations. I just ask how he's doing and he meows in return. But that in itself is progress. He doesn't run off when I come out the door anymore. He won't come close, either. But I respect that. He has his boundaries, just like the rest of us.

We went out front today, looking for him, and almost missed him. He was lounging in the johnny jump ups along the front walk. They have gotten rather tall; tall enough to hide an orange cat... He stood up, looked at us, and meowed. Obviously, I had interrupted his nap.

And now, in the middle of the night, he is sitting on the front lawn, near the sidewalk. He looks like a lion, sitting there, for all the world to see him. Kat: “the King of the Jungle” or rather, my front lawn. I wonder what he's thinking....

I don't know why Kat adopted my front yard. And I don't know why I haven't told him to “shoo!” when he's sleeping on my front porch. Maybe it's because he looks so comfortable, and I know he doesn't have a real home. I know someone must be feeding him, because he is not emaciated. But it's not me. I already have two fur babies to take care of. I don't need to adopt a cat.

Even though Kat has adopted me....

Cali