whiny white toes

For maybe the past month there has been a black and white kit­ty vis­it­ing at dusk and dawn. Very skit­tish. No idea if it is fer­al, or if it has a small staff on re­tain­er. But very well-be­haved, just re­al­ly ner­vous. And vo­cal! Since “she” (I as­sume) is black on top with white legs and bel­ly, and can be heard be­fore she is seen, she has earned the nick­name “Whiny White Toes”.

Two morn­ings ago I woke up ear­ly, as I do. But be­fore let­ting Boo out for a squirt, I took one my­self. At that mo­ment, all hell broke loose out­side! Cat­fight! W.W.T. was get­ting beat up by a scrag­gly male fe­line of in­de­ter­mi­nate lin­eage. De­spite my yelling and bang­ing on the win­dow, dam­age was ap­par­ent­ly done, as the morn­ing light con­firmed. Blood drops all around the pool, and torn fur every­where. But it seemed as if it was not mere­ly a one-sided at­tack: both got, and gave. So, no sign of ei­ther yes­ter­day, un­til late in the af­ter­noon. Boo found her, shak­en but alive. So they went off to­geth­er, us­ing the bud­dy sys­tem, I hope. Safe­ty in num­bers, right? As long as W.W.T. doesn’t turn and run, leav­ing Boo to de­fend her­self alone, I am all for it. Every­one needs a pal.

So, this morn­ing I had a plan. When Boo and I woke up, we both heard W.W.T., and in­stead of feed­ing Boo some wet food be­fore let­ting her out, I brought dry food out in a pie tin and set it down. Boo jumped on in, and then in crept the new girl. She was tak­ing BIG mouth­fuls of food, check­ing and re-check­ing me be­hind the glass door and both of her flanks. Then, Boo led the way around back and they hunt­ed to­geth­er awhile, then they part­ed com­pa­ny and Boo came in for some cod and cat­fish… WARMED UP! Boo can­not have kit­tens, so the only way to ex­pand the ranks is to adopt the needy. My plan is to safe­ly trap W.W.T. and call our lo­cal mo­bile vet­eri­nar­i­an, for the pur­pose of scan­ning for a chip (to de­ter­mine own­er­ship, if any), and gen­er­al check­up and de-worm­ing, as well as to see if she was hurt in the fight. (No­tice I didn’t men­tion spay/neuter? I’m not sure that she isn’t al­ready, but if she isn’t … ?)

From time to time, we all need a lit­tle help. It is nice to be on the giv­ing end, fi­nal­ly! If you can make a tiny crea­ture’s ex­is­tence eas­i­er, you’re do­ing what I feel we are here for: To be kind, and help out. Every­thing else is gravy. 

En­joy your day, and help some­one else en­joy theirs too.
 
 

—rob­bie edmonds

Flom­mist Rob­bie Ed­monds would love to sit down with you and dis­cuss his the­o­ries of mind-swap­ping and time trav­el, but it ap­pears as if he, as his cat, just left to stop him­self from do­ing so … AGAIN! Copy­right © 2017 Rob­bie Edmonds.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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