We’re close to Roseville’s hilariously misnamed Dry Creek where stray cats gather. SPCA neuters those they can reach, crops one ear as a sign they have been fixed, and releases them.

Self appointed, unpaid volunteers feed them at their own expense at sites on the creek or they’d starve; and they would further flood us home owners with pitiful starving feline refugees. This guy is a new, unfixed young male, skinny, dirty and semi-feral.

I feed him but he still attacked my hand viciously when I came too close to his tail while plucking out burrs, but a short course of Amoxicillin and I’m all better. He’s been around humans I’d guess because he meows, head-butts and likes to be petted-sometimes!

Here’s Yellowboy leading the cat parade, most of which are NOT starving stray feral cats but opportunistic domestic house cats belonging to my neighbors. The brindle colored cat in back we call the brindle cat; Gem is the big fixed male who belongs to Pilar but feeds everywhere. He gets plump in the Winter and as skinny as the yellow cat in Summer.

Here’s Gem in happier days-for him, in 2015 before yellow cat kicked his skinny ass off our porch and out of our flower beds. Hard world, Gem.

Yellowboy’s signature pose, chow hound-note fighting injury below left eye. When he’s done, he licks whiskers and paws, then he stretches luxuriously using the ‘downward dog’ posture. If I wait and then hold out my hand he’ll head-bump it and enjoy a (careful!) pet-for a short time.

So, not a sweet cat really, more than half wild at this point, like petting a cactus. My new buddy. Here’s who hates the whole idea:

 

 

Gertrude, Queen of Denmark.

 

Tough life for little dogs too, Gertie.

 

 

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