Bob is the outdoor cat. A rescue. Black and white with bright green eyes, pink nose and lips, he rules the yard. He is the sweetest, most lovingest cat. Here, he knows he looks good. Posed just right, he grabs the camera's attention....until he realizes that I'm there. Immediately, Bob jumps over and strolls over to be stroked and petted.
Bob loves to help Linda garden. Chipmunk and vole control is his number one job. Well, after perusing the boundary, of course. And darting after butterflies. And napping on the warm bricks.
Meet Linda and Andy. Andy is the indoor cat. He is a ragdoll (rescued) who is quite shy and jumpy. This is the only decent shot after 100 frames. The mere sight of a stranger with a camera frightens him. Taken with my zoom lens it isn't the best but it'll have to do until another day. When the camera was away he sidled up for a pet, allowing all manner of cooing and baby talk while being combed. Andy The Indoor Cat and Bob The Outdoor Cat are not friends.
Bob loves his iron bench. Getting him to stretch out and enjoy the sunshine HERE was impossible. Above, he is getting a treat which only made him jump off and come to us for more.
I adore cats but cannot have one. There are many I love vicariously through your blogs and now there's Andy and Bob in the mix. Here's a fun poem I found about cats.Catalogue
by Rosalie Moore
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
Cats, when they sleep, slump;
When they wake, pull in -
And where the plump's been
There's skin.
Cats walk thin
Cats wait in a lump
Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin -
They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak.
They sneak.
Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them
Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place
And then sat.
You walk around one
As if he were City Hall
After that.
If male,
A cats is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this
Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tale.
(He is also found,
When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)
A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences.
Cats fit
In any box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one,
He could arch over it.
When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in,
He's not where he's been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
by Rosalie Moore
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
Cats, when they sleep, slump;
When they wake, pull in -
And where the plump's been
There's skin.
Cats walk thin
Cats wait in a lump
Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin -
They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak.
They sneak.
Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them
Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place
And then sat.
You walk around one
As if he were City Hall
After that.
If male,
A cats is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this
Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tale.
(He is also found,
When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)
A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences.
Cats fit
In any box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one,
He could arch over it.
When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in,
He's not where he's been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.
