We are such easy touches for stray cats. During the time that we have lived in North Fulton, we have been blessed to have some of the most loyal and appreciative cats decide to stop over at our house and stay a few years. One produced a dynasty of wonderful felines, that being the matriarch, Shadow.
Others have been more recent. Chester was a wild one that took some taming with small bites of ham dispensed from the swing on our porch. Even now, some three years later, Chester displays a decided split personality. Beds and sofas are safe zones where all manner of petting and rubbing may take place. Away from the safe zones, skittish, shy behavior remains the norm for Chester. During my convalescence, Chester has been my nurse cat. Of course, Charles, the full time inside cat allows this arrangement out of his own self-less, charitable instincts.
This morning, I heard the cry of the elated hunter cat. Chester had stalked and produced for our edification a tasty chipmunk. I suppose that most folks know that cats love to show off the results of their glorious hunts. When they do, it is entirely necessary that the human hosts must go outside and praise their hunting spoils to the heavens. This is the cat providing for his family. I don’t think that Will quite understood when I told him that we must go praise Chester’s efforts. We did tell Chester what a wonderful hunter and great provider that he was. Then, we left him to his own devices (chipmunk butchery…sorry!) This is the way of the world of cats, alas.
Will got stuck with the clean-up, I’m afraid.
As for the open door policy for strays cats at the Greens, the flashing neon sign remains on at our house. “Welcome, cats…good eats!”
Mike Green
October 5, 2011
seizethedaymike 
Lovely…..some of our best four-legged feline children were strays who adopted us as well. Barney and Fred remain our favorites. Barney was famous for his inability to meow….he trilled instead and the fact that he appeared to have no bones. You could bend him in any conceivable direction or manner. Fred had the heart of a hunter, and the disposition of a lamb. On the off chance that he ever was successful, it was usually at two A.M. and was announced by loud, but muffled meowing as he tried to communicate with his mouth stuffed with prize. Our hearts were broken when we lost each of them. No feline companions have come close to their personality and charm.
Dianne, that was beautifully written. You have the true voice of a cat person!