Welp, Ginger presented a mole. The things have been tearing up the back yard where it was like walking barefoot on a huge pile of lorraine cheese. She had nabbed a couple of mice last year when I first got her and haven't heard any of their scurrying since. A good friend had been trying to find a place for her because she just wasn't working out in his apartment, so I offered my experience in raising cats and besides, it had been awhile since I'd had pussy, so I thought it would be good companionship. Apparrently, another friend had rescued this orange tabby kitten abandoned on the road somewhere near Woodbridge about four years ago now. She was such a problem cat that she had passed through four different households before mine.

I remember that she stayed hidden for two weeks before I got a chance to talk to her. I was sitting on the couch playing guitar watching tv, like usual when I saw a motion out the corner of my eye and she had peeked out to see what the gawd awful whaling noise was coming from some wounded creature in the living room. Since then I was able to coax her out in the back yard which was fenced in, but she would never go out unless I was there with her.

This year she was going out on her own and was Queen of the Backyard. So one day when I was (push) mowing the grass, I left the gate open and while I was doing the front yard, she came gingerly out. I cooed at her and she ran over to rub against my leg and I kneeled down and told her: "this is all yours, too" with a slowly expansive gesture of one arm. She looked and cooed and clicked and started to nose around and since then has demanded to go outside as early as possible in the day, and stay out late enough until time to sleep. Though sometimes I have encouraged her to stay out at night and pass freely around. Now she's Action Cat.

I haven't had to touch the litter box in three weeks. And now the mole.

So, I'm going to put a fire in the hearth and lay on the couch and stroke my pussy.
Tonight is kind of special.