Cato

This is one of the two new customers at Café Cosy. I am calling him Cato, and his less frequently seen white and orange friend, Cicero.

Cato is a good-looking fellow, as you can observe. I think he may need neutering, as his head is rather large, though I must admit that I am not a good judge of those clues, and his head may simply be large. He’s a golden brown tabby but gives the impression almost of being a Bengal. These pictures are from a couple of days ago, when he came by my apartment alone.

Last evening, he visited again. He moved very cautiously, perhaps unnerved by Hector’s rapt attention on the other side of the screen door. Cato seemed less bothered by my presence than by Hec’s, though the latter may have simply been foremost in his mind, perhaps as being the greater danger. He clearly doesn’t know Hector.

In any case, Cato did not eat or drink while I saw him. But I decided to leave some soft-food out when I went to bed. About ten minutes after I had retired, I heard someone eating from the bowl I had put out. The soft-food, and some of the hard, was gone in the morning. I think it was Cato.

I will endeavour to befriend him before I try capturing him, and, in any case, he has not come so often that I can leave a trap out for him, though that may change. I find it hard to believe that he is not someone’s cat; I have examined the local internet sites and groups for mention of him, but have seen no one who resembles him. He looks thin, but in good condition otherwise. If he ate of the café’s fare once, he may do so again. I hope to be there when he does.