A Macchiato Please

When I got home tonight, I found this guy waiting for me on my porch:


But why? He doesn't know me. Although, he sure was hungry. He and Kerfluffle didn't seem to like each other much:


Still, after eating, he sat on my lap.


Notice his ear on the right has been clipped? That means he's been spayed/neutered. And, that means he's one of the gang and not a drop off.

Who is he? I will have to do some investigating tomorrow, but for now I'm calling him Macchiato, Caramel Macciato.

Another Suspect

What's this? It's 6:45 in the morning and a new suspect shows up for breakfast:


He is orange with striking blue eyes, and Kate, a fellow friend of the cats, doesn't know his name. So, I'm calling him Julius.

Here he is a little later in the morning:

Personal Hygiene

The Usual Suspects

Did I mention that cats can smell a bleeding heart a trailer park away?

While only one cat actually lives with me in my little house, there are the three "regulars" who show up on my door step for breakfast, lunch, dinner... and shall I say snacks?  Oh, they beg.  And do I give it to them?

Here's a picture of them waiting on my doorstep at 6:45 this morning.  How could I say no?



Here we have SoccerDoccer, who is rotund and demanding.  When she's not scratching at my door for food, however, she can also be a real lady.  One of my neighbors, Kate, gave her the name SoccerDoccer because she thinks the tabby's coloring looks like a soccer jersey.



Then there's Skins.  Over the winter, Skins got sick, lost patches of fur, and was on death's door, all skin and bone, until same neighbor Kate nursed Skins back to health.  Now filling out nicely, this is one lucky cat.  But be careful.  She has a mean upper right hook.



And last, but not least, we Kerfluffle.  That's my name for him, though others call him "Smokey", "Smoke-A-Doke", and "Jinx".  So much to say about this cat... so I will leave that for another post.

The Bully

As cats can sense a bleeding heart, it was only a matter of time before one of the vagrants moved in with me.  And, as with all cat love stories, this one begins with kitty treats.

Last summer, I made a habit of providing evening treats.  I tried to be fair, divvying portions of the kibble equally among the hungry mongrels.  But one large, scratched up black cat with fierce yellow eyes and overly prominent cheekbones was always at my fingertips, attempting to claw out the eyes of any other that approached.

As it turned out, this cat had a sad, sad story.  According to the neighbors, she lived in the white and burgundy trailer due south of me until the owner died in a motorcycle accident, leaving her abandoned. So, I took her in, christened her Missy T, and fed her until she got fat.

That is until I took her to the vet to get spade, only to find out Missy was a Mister.

So now he's just called "T", also referred to by the neighborhood as "Black Baby", "Midnight", and "Jack."

Still a loner and a bully, he's a bit more tolerant of the other cats.  He are some pictures of him giving us the stink eye:

Life in a Trailer Park

For the past year, I've been living in a tiny blue house in a trailer park.   Or, as I've been corrected, I've been living in a mobile home community.  But, call it what you will, this place is my home.

Here's a picture of the park entrance:


And here's a picture of my little blue house:


Despite the stereotypes surrounding trailer parks, I've become quite enamored with living here.  The people are quirky, generous, and unapologetically delightful.  The trailers themselves are lovely vintage pastels with a 1950s "modern" design.  The park is set right along the beach of Lake Eerie, offering some glorious sunsets.

But, what makes this place most compelling, are the cats.  Stray cats.  Abandoned cats.  Communal cats.  Yes, multitudes of cats.

And so here, I will try to introduce as many of them as I can to you.