Saint Francis is, I am sad to say, a bit selfish. Not my favorite St. Francis of Assisi, who was known for his love of animals. No, I’m referring to his namesake, my little stray cat who comes to dine on our porch every night. As some of you might recall, I named her Saint Francis with an “i” even though she may be a girl, because of my admiration for St. Francis, who is also known, in certain circles, for having his feast day on my birthday.
As I explained in an earlier column, if you don’t understand what a saint’s feast day is, no matter – that’s probably for a later, theological treatise which I will never write.
My little grey Saint Francis has been supping on milk with a raw egg stirred into it and regular cat food since last fall. I had to expand the amount of food when Golden Boy, a handsome MGM lion look-alike, appeared a bit later on. They don’t dine at the same time, and probably don’t even know each other. Golden Boy ignores the fact that I have marked the food bowl with Saint Francis’ name in black marker. Probably needs glasses.
A couple of months ago, I peered out to see Saint Francis stretched out in front of the food bowls, obviously having eaten her fill. A little ways away from her was another grey cat, a bit bigger. Quite a bit bigger. She kept looking at Saint Francis and eyeing the dishes, but Saint Francis refused to move or even give her guest a nod, much less a friendly greeting.
(I did mention, didn’t I, that she’s kind of big?)
The newcomer walked around for a bit, meowing pitiably, but to no avail. At last, she gave up and galumphed down the porch steps (I did mention, didn’t I, that she’s kind of big?). Saint Francis stayed put for awhile to be sure her rival wasn’t coming back, then hopped daintily off the porch and disappeared.
When I looked out an hour later, however, here was Lady Pearl (she didn’t tell me her name, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is), gobbling down what Saint Francis had left.
So, now I guess I’m feeding three cats. Sadly, none has shown any interest in moving into the luxury kitty condo sitting beside the porch which daughter Meg ordered from Amazon. Which I put together. Sort of. I’m sure it isn’t because I have leftover parts that the kitties won’t move in. They don’t even know about the leftover parts.
Now you all have the latest developments in the Saga of the Stray MacDonald Kitties. I’m sure you all love cats and therefore are much interested. You may think you don’t love cats, but you really do, you just don’t know it.