nobody’s kitty

Almost every morning, Kitty-kitty-kitty hears me walking to the garage. And she jumps out of our her wicker chair, where she has been sleeping off her night of hunting baby bunnies mice and moles (a service we appreciate). Kitty is a neighborhood feral cat, and she wants nothing to do with nobody. If I surprise her, she jumps up and gives me this look, reminding me that it is her world, and I’m barely allowed to live in it. We worry about her during the winter months; we have no idea how she survives. Maybe she goes to Boca to visit her retired sister-in-law, who has a nice condo? But she is a harbinger of spring around here, just as are the snowdrops and allergies.

Tonight, Kitty-kitty-kitty (that’s my good-morning greeting to her) was asleep on her chair when I got home from work! She didn’t hear the garage door go up or down, my car door close, or anything. I snapped this through the garage door window, vewwy quietwy. I’m guessing she’s plumb-wore-out from working all day, and has to take a little nap before supper.

Or, hmm. That’s an awfully round little tummy, Miss Kitty.