One of the neighborhood cats must have heard about the abundance of mice in our house, because it paid us a visit to see about the open Mouser position we had advertised in the Cat Bugle. It showed up on our porch right when Robin let the dogs out this afternoon. Unlike the unlucky raccoon, it was quick and agile enough to climb up into the rafters at the sight of our little demon dogs, and it was unharmed.
Robin took the dogs back inside, and I coaxed the cat down with some sweet-talking and a bowl of tuna. It turned out to be an obvious domestic feline: well-fed, healthy-looking, and quite affectionate once it got over its near-death experience. We locked the dogs up in my office, and left both the front door and the main house entrance open, to give it the option of either escape, or employment at Castle Frostbite. It chose the former option, but only after much meow-ing and longing head-rubbing on various corners. I guess it couldn’t get over the lingering scent of dachshund, and it figured that the risks far outweighed the rewards of the Mouser job.
(Had it chosen to stay at the Castle for any length of time, we would have put up a notice at the local vet’s office for a found feline, and placed notices in the mailboxes of our neighbors. It wasn’t wearing a collar, but it definitely belonged to someone, as it was too friendly and well-fed to be a stray or feral cat.)
I’m kind of bummed it chose to wander on. It was a pretty mackerel tabby—tapering longitudinal stripes like a skunk, only black on greenish-brown, and lovely green eyes. Maybe I should pay the nearest NHSPCA shelter a visit sometime.