FERAL FELINES

Fifi, one of the two kittens we feed daily. We named the other one Zorro. I call the mother Mamacita (which I suppose might be an insult if she were human). She always allows the youngsters to eat first. There's also a big, husky, very shy male that comes for breakfast after the rest have had their fill. So polite!

Our little feral cat family has become very familiar with us since we started feeding them regularly three months ago. I've been advised I could trap them, have them altered, and returned to the neighborhood, and I know it's the PC thing to do, but would they still trust us?

It's especially crucial to cultivate cats since we found a rat in our dish cupboard one evening. The Capt. had left the back door ajar so he could carry some heavy object out to the laundry room, and somehow the rat got into the kitchen and climbed into the one cupboard that was open (NOT a food cupboard, gracias a Dios!). The Capt. was making tea, opened the dish cupboard for a cup and saw a long skinny tail. Closed the cupboard quickly and came in to tell me, very calmly, about our visitor. Armed with brooms, we opened the cupboard again and I began screaming like a car alarm when I saw the rat pop out. He jumped down onto the counter, hit the floor and scramble out the door, skidding on the tiles like a Tom & Gerry cartoon.

That was when we decided we'd cut back the feral felines' feeding schedule (from twice to once a day) so they'd have an appetite for the next rat that dares to approach our house. Fifi and Zorro still come around every evening, hoping I've changed my mind.

What I like about having feral cats:
1) Enjoying the sight of them as they grow. Cats are such a work of art.
2) Not having to deal with litterboxes.
3) Feeling some assurance that they'll keep down the vermin population, hopefully without presenting the dismembered corpses to us.
4) Seeing them become bolder: Fifi (pictured here) now comes to the back door to remind us it's breakfast time. (When I come out she races away even though she knows by now I'm no threat.)
5) The knowledge that they'll be fine without us while we're sailing for three months, especially since the folks who'll be housesitting for us like cats too and will be sure to feed them. We had to give away our last cat, Pooz, who we doubted would adapt to months of boat life.

The only thing I miss: not being able to scoop them up, hold and cuddle them in my lap.