Grandma had six cats when she was going to move in with us. She was going to have them put down (to put it nicely), and we told her to bring them here. They got ahold of 4 of them to put in cat carriers and brought them to our house. The grandson who lived next door, kept the other two. After trying to tear the cages apart, they made it down here. We put butter on their feet so they couldn’t find their way back where they had come from, and they all scattered from the nice warm barn we gave them to sleep and live in.
They were back that evening and still here the next day, which I was glad of at the time.
Gma came with two 20 pound bags of cat food, different kinds, that we were to mix together, because the cats like it that way. They are too fussy to eat only one kind of food at a time. However, whenever they get in the garage where my cats are, they woof down my singular kind of cat food, like there’s no tomorrow. Gma buys the expensive stuff, I buy Dad’s cat food.
Two of those cats do everything they can to get into the garage. These cats came with enough blankets and rugs to wrap a sheik in comfort. They are nicely sprawled over soft mounds of straw so they can sleep in softness like a kitty cloud. Yet, they try to dig under the doors to get into my garage, where there are no such comforts. They follow me over and wait at the door until I come out, then try to out-maneuver me to get in.
Oh yeah, and when I go down to feed the precious darlings in the morning, Gma hands me two wet PAPER TOWELS to clean out their precious dishes so they can eat, because cats don’t like to eat or drink in a dirty pan. I think that’s funny, because after I clean and pour fresh water, they always go out and drink out of the mud puddles…