The Knitting Pirate

Best buddies.

Even though he's almost five, Floyd still has a kitten-face.

Sometimes, like when I point a camera at him while he's mid-bath and his fur is all rumpled, his face gets a sour expression that makes him look very much like Oscar the Grouch.

He's a good cat.

Today being Halloween, it seemed fitting that Feline Friday should feature Floyd, even though technically he's not black, but Very Dark Brown. Like black coffee.

Black or brown, he's a handsome boy who's often found snoogled up to my leg on the couch, alternately snoring and purring, just before developing a galloping case of the evening zoomies.

Floyd likes to sun himself in the windowsill. (Lookit that short little kitten-face!)

From here, he can watch the world go by.

When "the world going by" includes Porch Cat, he gets a little more alert. (If you look closely, you can see Porch Cat in each of the pictures - he blends in with the rocks quite well!)

Synchronized couch-perching.

There's nothing like an open box or case to attract a cat, is there? (I've since learned to leave the guitar case closed.)

Floyd doesn't care about Outlander.

Yesterday was Kipling's birthday! He is now FIVE. He still follows me around the house, making adorable little "ook" noises. He still hams it up for the camera whenever I point it at him, and he still loves nothing more than bellyrubs. Fortunately, these two things go together...

Happy birthday, Kipling!

Floyd's love of handknits apparently trumps his hatred of cameras. As soon as he realized that there were socks just lying around on the floor, he went into "sneak mode" (which isn't really so stealthy, but he thinks it is) and tiptoed up to them... even though I was sitting right there, camera in hand. He patted and pawed at the socks on their blockers, but was soon discouraged by their refusal to crumple up and be rolled upon.

But wait! Another sock, this time on the stairs! Maybe this one would be more willing to become a toy. Sadly, it did not, despite a valiant effort. And I, mean human that I am, took pictures of both sock and cat... and then put the sock safely away before it could be clawed and chewed into a tangle.

Kipling and Porch Cat have an uneasy relationship: Kipling stares out at Porch Cat, and Porch Cat yowls angrily at Kipling through the glass. Unfortunately, this yowling sometimes happens after I've gone to bed! The other night I had to get up and chase Porch Cat off.

Kipling, poor thing, mostly looks confused about this. He doesn't yowl back. He just looks out the window as if to ask, "Why's he yelling at me? I didn't do anything?"

Porch Cat seems rather dignified...

But like any other cat, he often forgets that he's got a hind leg sticking out.

My next-door neighbour and I will be attempting to trap Porch Cat so that we can send him, along with an appropriate donation, to a rescue organization. My porch isn't really a good living situation for him; I've noticed that he seems to be losing weight, and he's made some crude remarks to Floyd and Kipling (including hurling himself territorially against the window whilst screaming at them) that make me think he's not really a good influence on them at all.

He still won't let me anywhere near him, but he runs a little less distance each time I come out to feed him, which gives me hope that he can be rehabilitated into being someone's pet.