Damn Cat

This is the damn cat. Not my damn cat. It's somebody's damn cat. And it's a damn cat because it does what nature intended for it to do: to be mesmerized by birds and to lie in wait for them. And occasionally to snag one and kill it.

Yep, this is the damn cat that finds my yard particularly attractive, because there are five feeders up and about. Something I got from my mother, I suppose, this simple enjoyment of looking out and seeing the birds at the feeders.







Lying in wait for a slow bird is something this cat got from its mother, too, although hers has the distinction of being instinctive and natural. But I hate it for my birds. I wish the cat only liked mourning doves, because I can't stand them.



And of course, another joy of having a cat sneaking around, besides the bird carcasses on the porch, is the occasional piles of spit-up that are usually where I would not really want them. Like the above shot from the side porch. The middle of the side porch. Where you walk when you're coming up from the parking area.