Happy Feral Cat Day, everyone!
Metro, Mistress Cowfish, are you reading me? You might want to stay indoors and do not, repeat, not touch the phone.
Feline is not Felonious.
Yes, as we learn from our good friends the Farkers, Monday is National Feral Cat Day in the US; because we are such good friends with the Americans, we will this once adopt their holiday, as it does not appear to involve bizarre, expensive ceremonies, burning crosses, firearms, or the commemoration of the looting of Yorktown. 
We’ve even come up with a nifty slogan for our Yankacious readers to use, should they be possessed of the urge to print up t-shirts or decorate a special-occasion cake with a properly celebratory saying.
Spay a Stray Today!
Catchy, eh? You’re welcome.
raincoaster 
I love the piccy of the surprised kitty – has he just learned he’s going to be adopted by a Catholic priest?
I think he’s heard that PETA knows he hasn’t been sticking to the vegetarian diet and are on their way.
When I worked at Greenpeace there was a girl there who could not, try as she might, find a vegan dog food that would keep her dog healthy and that he liked. Astonishing, eh? I asked her why she’d adopted a carnivore instead of a different kind of pet, but she said she just wanted a dog. I think what she wanted was the kind of dog that doesn’t exist; the vegan dog.
Why would I give a damn about this? As you well know from reading my blog, I don’t own cats. They live in our house and sponge off my wife.
As for feral cats, my views are somewhat more draconian than yours: forget the abandoned animals–spay/neuter the owners. Goes for dogs too. Oh, and horses.
So is this newfound support for crazy cat ladies an indication that you’ve finally decided what you want to be when you grow up? Just curious.
Perhaps you should take the test. I mean, you don’t want to go too far down that path until you’re sure it’s right for you.
But if it’s any help, I’ll write you a reccomendation.
I bring up your name in this context because of your well-know predeliction for calling the police when you see feral animals. I had hoped to head off such a course of action this time, but it seems I may be too late.
Why call the police when you see a cat? Criminal pussy??
Every day’s feral cat day in my neighborhood.
By the way, didja know that cats are the fifth leading source of confirmed rabies cases in Virginia? They out-rabies dogs, cows, horses, groundhogs and several other species and are out-rabied by raccoons, skunks, bats and possums. Guess it speaks volumes for the company cats keep.
I actually know of which I speak (an incredibly rare event) having done several stories on the subject over the past 12 years.
My cat would rather spray the strays, but he says you can spay the competition anytime you’d like.
I think I better go find that silly thing though and make sure he’s got his collar on.
Metro’s experience with criminal pussy is something regarding which I cannot be induced to comment, except to wonder if it was also Virginian…
That is all.
Please, RC, would you just lay off the “you call the cops on animals” thing? It’s getting old. It’s a learning curve — now I just put the local band on my speed dial, so next time their horses are sojourning in the middle of the highway in the dark, I know who to call.
I try to tell the cats why they can’t go outside — ’cause they really want to. I showed them the bear through the window. I told them about the deer (1, 2, multiples??) that ate the grape vine leaves and left spoor in the backyard. Cinnamon was nose to nose with the raccoon at the bedroom window that one night…
yet they still want to be outside…
Of course they did. All the bad boys are outside!
I’ll lay off the calling the cops on animals thing when Metro stops changing his story. Any day now I expect him to inform me that the horses disregarded his instructions to get off the highway because they only spoke a dialect of Ojibwa.
Darling, it’s not me that has to twist the truth to fit my particular hallucinations. I gave you the straight story, but like Fox you keep changing your version of what you were trying to tell the rest of the world.
I’m cool with that. Just concerned for your liver, that’s all.
So who is it who won’t drop it now?
No, your story has changed. At first they were wild horses. All wild-like. And you parked until they were off the road. Then they were farmer’s horses who’d just wandered out. At some point they morphed into band horses; I think after you talked to Barb. At some point you said you got off the car and shooed them off the road. At another, later point, you claimed to have put them in the field. When I asked for specifics so I could nail down exactly what the story was, you claimed I was obsessed and refused to answer. Did you put the horses in the field like you claimed, and if you did, did you secure the gate behind them? Simple questions to which I haven’t gotten a straight answer.
No, you’re clearly not obsessed.
And you’re clearly stalling again.