Straying

A stray cat had kittens in our backyard.

In case you're thinking, "Didn't that happen before?" The answer is yes. Different cat, same problem.

There is a whole feral cat community that lives in our neighborhood. The Hubs and our neighbor Danny recognize them all, occasionally feed them (the Hubs secretly sneaks them food because he knows I disapprove, but he always ends up confessing later on), worry about them during the hot summers, and discuss whether there's an organization that (as rumored) will come pick up stray cats and get them fixed. Danny has also given most of them crazy names like "Cowboy" and "Orangey" (not to be confused with either of the two Orangey Juniors).


Whenever we see a cat in our backyard, we chase it out with water. So why a certain brownish feline named Grizzly Bear (incidentally, the sister of Polar Bear, who is all white except for her gray nose) decided to have her litter in between our wall and some bicycle tires is beyond me.


But here's where it gets really weird: I'm suddenly really attached to these kittens. Yeah, me. Ms. Just-Leave-the-Cats-Alone! I really wanna keep one. Which is ridiculous for several reasons, such as the fact that our landlord said no pets. And I'm allergic to cats.

They're just so tiny and cute. Teensy little bundles of adorable. And I want to take care of all of them.

Even though (supposedly) I'm a dog person.


Photos: I took the first two photos, and the Hubs took the last one.