It has been a long time since I have seen Sable and Sablette, the two black sisters who would come quite often to eat at Café Cosy, the food I place outside the door to my concrete ditch. I think that something must have happened to them, something unpleasant and probably deliberate. If it had been an accident, surely one would still come. I can hope only that they were taken in by someone; there is no reason to believe that I was the only human friend they had.
Finn, whom I had called Hugo, still shows up, at least once a day, for some soft food. He is an owned cat (a fellow resident in the apartment building knew of him, and thus we were told his real name) and has a collar and tag (which I am sure he did not have when I first met him.) He is undoubtedly fed by his people, definitely fed by a neighbour of mine, and by me. I don’t mind that; Finn may not receive much in the way of soft-food at home. But he is not thin, so he is doing all right for himself. I don’t worry if he misses a meal or two at my place.
But now a new fellow (possibly a girlcat) has shown up. I have named him Cecil. He is skittish but not feral. I saw him for the first time yesterday, and he was eating some of the hard food I have available. He is of course welcome any time, and I hope to become better acquainted with him.
And then there were three other new cats, as well.
They came at twilight. I thought at first it was yet another novice customer at the café, then I saw two forms and believed that both Finn and Cecil had stopped by at once. I heard a trill and saw what was really at my food-bowl. No wonder Raleigh was so excited watching them. They were startled by my approach and ran, only to come back a minute later.
I am fine with the trio (whom I have named Winkin, Blinkin and Nod, due to the time of their arrival) eating my food. But they tend to take it all, so I will leave a decent amount over night, and they can have it all, if they wish (and they will.) In the morning, after which raccoons are unlikely to come, I will put more food in the bowl, in case Cecil drops by for a bite.
I had noticed the food disappearing most nights, and thought it might have been wild animals. My regular, Horace the skunk, has not been seen for longer than Sable and Sablette, but I figured it was another one taking his place. Well, it was three, probably a small family.
They are welcome, too, though the maitre d’ may have to speak to them about their table-manners…