There are those who only visit this site apparently for news of Lydia, the feral cat I laboriously trapped last year and hauled in for a spaying and a kitty abortion. Lydia continues to be fed night and day on my back porch…one of four felines who've decided I'm running a Hometown Buffet out there with an emphasis on the "all you can eat" tagline.
They work in shifts, appearing out there at all hours to demand more, more, more and to provide inspiration for my current main tasks, which involve writing for a certain famous lasagna-loving pussycat. One of the others even seems to determine to outdo Garfield in the girth category. He's the one who, when I fill the bowl with a can of Friskies, often gives me the "What? No salmon?" look.
Lydia is the most grateful of the pack. In fact, the other day, she even left me a tip. It was a dead lizard. I gave her the same expression I've received from waiters when I leave anything under 20% and they look at me like I just left them a dead lizard.