All-star benchwarmers

My homemade benches are like Lego blocks for backyard kitty lounging. Below are Daisy's tail end (left) and a sleepy-eyed Homer.Below is Sailor when he still had his chocolate back stripe.Be not deceived by Betty's alluring smile; the jaws of a beast lurk within (la Bete = the beast).Below is Gus, my eldest feral, the most charming boy I cannot touch.

Misdemeanor man

Gus is committing a common petty crime: blocking access.We have five fence holes, two open windows and one kitty door which allow every cat -- resident, stray or feral -- unencumbered access to the premises. This access is tricky to enforce, however, because a blocker cat will always invoke his right to unencumbered loitering.

Gus the lounge king

Take a load off, Gus. Let your hair down. Spread out. Cool your heels.It's been 5 years since I trapped and neutered Gus. He's still feral, but a delightful and easygoing cat. The only thing that gets him uptight is when I try to touch him.

Night visitors

Siamese Sidney dropped in the other night around midnight, and all my cats went into panic mode. I called his dad who promptly came over to retrieve big Sid. I'm keeping his phone number on speed dial!Darling but feral Gus, above, has finally started sleeping in a kitty bed. He's getting older (age 6) and spending more nights in the house this winter. I long to run my fingers through his rich fur, but Gus won't let me get within arm's reach.This is one of the possums who eat cat food and hang out in our house at night. In Texas possums seem to be everywhere. I ought to trap/neuter them. They get along fine with cats. But their noisy nocturnal noshing wakes me up.

Gus the lady's man

When Gus finally asks Olga for a date, she'll probably be busy washing her hair.Gidget wonders if Gus gets results with that slouchy stalking technique.

Gus does yoga

Feral Gus is a delightful boy and a master in the art of sustained stretching. Here are his classic poses: the Hanging Gardens and the Shotgun.
Lots of cats do the latter -- lie with their back legs shot straight out behind them, double-barrel style. I have many photos of Gus in this pose, but doing it on a dumpster seems the ultimate in zen.

All aboard the Mayflower

We're about to plant the flag and proclaim ourselves a feral cat colony.

I finally connected with my local Humane Society maven of feral cat rescue -- a remarkable, inspiring woman devoted to educating the public about feral cats as urban wildlife. In the next few days I'll be registering with the city as a feral colony and will make it my job to trap and neuter every feral I feed in my yard.

Here are ferals Gus and Bruce lounging in the back yard. Gus is a charter member of our colony -- he's a gorgeous dark tabby with white feet. I trapped and neutered Gus several years ago, the same time as Puppy (Linus), but adorable Gus has never become tame.

Bruce is my generic name for the many light tabby males I feed. (They all look like Keenan but are husky wrestler-types, not lanky cowboys.) I'm not sure which Bruce this is in the photo, but he's a cinch to be a loverboy once he's neutered.