No matter how well I treated her, no matter how regularly I fed her, I could never quite earn the trust of Sylvia. Feral to the max, she wandered into my backyard one day, eight…maybe nine years ago. Every once in a rare while, she wouldn't run from me. Every once in a rarer while, she'd let me pet her a bit before she ran from me. Never did she not have the accusatory stare on her catface that you see above.
At one point, I was up to four pussycats out there — four stray felines who expected food every evening. There was Lydia, there was the Stranger Cat, there was Max and there was Sylvia. Six years ago here, I told the story of how Sylvia joined the family…
[The Stranger Cat] was coming around to dine, not once a day or twice but thrice or more often. "That Stranger Cat sure eats a lot," Carolyn and I said to each other. The Stranger Cat also seemed to be a bit schizo: Friendly and pettable one visit; stand-offish the next.
One night, Carolyn was working at the kitchen sink and I wandered over to the patio doors, looked out at the feline-feeding area and said, "Carolyn, I think I've figured out why The Stranger Cat eats so much. Come look." She wandered over to see what I was looking at: Two Stranger Cats. They weren't exactly twins but were easy to confuse. It was like it is with Kardashians: Once you know what to look for, you can tell them apart. We dubbed the new arrival, the one who didn't like being touched, The Stranger Stranger Cat.
The Stranger Stranger Cat was later renamed Sylvia. Why Sylvia? I have no idea. Why do you ask me these things? She was around when Max — a large, Alpha Male Cat, showed up demanding first crack at everyone's supper dish at every serving and they bonded. Max would sleep in the bushes and Sylvia would sleep next to him or sometimes on him. Here's a photo of that happy couple. Note the same expression on Sylvia's puss.
The Stranger Cat (whom I suspect was Sylvia's father) died of old age in May of 2012 and Max stopped showing up for chow later that year. So for the past six years, it's just been the ladies, Sylvia and Lydia. The last week or so, Sylvia hasn't been seen and last night, the owner of the house right behind mine found her remains in his yard. A good coroner might be able to determine Cause of Death but I have no theories.
Lydia does not seem to be grieving. She's showing up, expecting food and receiving plenty. Sometimes when Lydia showed up alone, I'd suspect that Sylvia was in one of her shyer moods and she was hiding until Lydia got food from The Human. And sure enough, once I'd put out the grub and gone back in, Sylvia would spring out and claim half of the Friskies Mixed Grill. That happened often enough that I'd give Lydia food for two and I did that all last week.
This is the first time in maybe two decades that I've had but one feral cat out there. It feels…odd. But since it doesn't seem to be bothering Lydia, I'm not going to let it bother me. Except that it does.