Littermates

I apologize for not keeping you posted on our outdoor cat situation. We still have five. Four are represented here, demanding breakfast. From the left: Rrose, her brother Marcel, and her children, Elvis Memphis and Elvis Vegas. Their brother, Elvis Hollywood, succumbed to a car. Their cousin (we think?) Junior disappeared. Vince, the patriarch, was too close to the camera to photograph this morning. He breaks into the house on a regular basis.

Rrose is getting tamer, and fatter! We aren't trying to touch her, which helps in the trust department. She has decided she likes us, and will now pose for photos in exchange for food. Isn't she beautiful? Look how she cocks her head!

Never mind that they all piss all over the place and irritate the neighbors. Pawprints all over the cars. Garages that stink. Yes, we MADE these cats exist by feeding them! It's a weird existential question. None of them are adoptable, they never will be, no matter how friendly they get, unless you like cat pee in your house. We are learning this with Angus, Vince's littermate, the one we brought inside. Unfortunately, he's way too cute to banish.

But Rrose, I have a special place for her in my heart. Poor thing was skinny and perpetually pregnant, until we got her spayed and eartipped. She's the most timid. She's also the most susceptible to catnip. I love watching her get fat and courageous.

And the kids? The white Elvii? Their dad, a neighbor cat named Yves, is AWOL. Deadbeat. But Marcel was a good uncle. He taught these nephews to hunt and beg like pros. They all huddle in a pile for warmth in the winter. Which is just around the corner.