From "Chelsea Girl" (a reader of this site) comes a worried e-mail: "Please assure me that though you're in Minnesota, Lydia is being properly fed." Lydia, you may recall, is the cat who hangs out in my back yard — the one I had to trap and take in for spaying and a kitty abortion a few months back.
Correction: "…one of the cats who hangs out in my back yard." We're up to five now. Five feral felines — try saying that fast — feed at the dishes I leave out on the rear porch. Usually in the evening, it's Lydia plus one guest. Years ago, I fed a cat we named Jackie out there…and Jackie was quite territorial, claiming my yard as her own. If another pussycat even entered, let alone approached The Dish, Jackie would leap to defend her turf, chasing off the intruder like one of Sinatra's bodyguards protecting The Chairman of the Board. Lydia is unthreatened by others and even acts as hostess. She's awfully generous with the food I pay for. As long as she gets her fill, all are welcome.
In the last week or so, the clientele out there has included a silvery/spotted cat of enormous size and appetite. Both of those qualities have been enhanced because this one looks ready to deliver a litter any day now…and may have, by the time I return. I made the layman's diagnosis that she was too far along to be trapped and hauled out to the vet, especially when I was about to leave town. She may even be too big to fit in that trap I bought. So I have the feeling Lydia will have plenty of new customers for the little Free Buffet she's operating on my stoop.
Fear not, Chelsea Girl. It's operational in my absence. I left plenty of food in the bins and a housesitter to dole it out. We've come too far with Lydia to abandon her now.