Felines to Dine fur

         Lazily looking out the frosty bay window this morning, I stretch my furry neck to see whether or not I am dreaming that snowflakes are tumbling from the heavens, cloaking the street in white diamonds. The view is like a winter scene from Currier and Ives.                                                                                                                                   

        Aha, I spot telltale paw prints on the walkway. Clyde must have left the house through the outdoor security flap during the wee hours to explore.  But, why he would want to be out in the cold, I don’t know.   

        Pawing through Cat Fancy, Pinkie is distracting. He pauses to scratch- n-sniff a cat cologne sample on a page featuring a photo of an Exotic. Pinkie is very photogenic and the camera loves him. He has aspirations of being the kitty on the cat food box. “That cat looks like an overgrown kitten,” blurts out Blue, adding that it has a mashed-in face and no tail.  “I think she’s rather cute” says Pinkie. Blue, continuing to peer over Pinkie's shoulder, says. “Ooh, look at that wide-eared hairless one."  Pinkie shudders.  “I don’t like sphynx cats, they look cold!”

            Clyde suddenly appears though the outdoor security flap, which he holds open to prevent it from locking. Thus, his furry friends can pass through.  We all watch in horror as stray cats enter our living room one by one. 

            An off-key mewing cat choir fills the living room. Blue’s and Pinkie’s fur begins to fly and Blue is growling with claws protracted.  “Steady ole boy, we’re outnumbered” warns Pinkie as he restrains Blue with his paw.  A large reddish cat with a majestic collar thanks us fur our hospitality and introduces himself as ‘Big Red.’ Pinkie looks him over then sticks his nose in the air and sneers “alley cat!” to which Big Red retorts: “yeah, and you’re a house cat—whose back I’ve got!” Pinkie nods respectfully at Big Red, who offers us some catnip. “This is homegrown,” he tells us with a wink.  Blue studies the catnip favorably and tells Big Red that “you’re the cat’s meow, purrhaps later, when our owners are out, we can watch Animal Planet Cats 101 together.”

Suddenly, Lady Hun appears with a stack of paperwork and a ballpoint pen is sticking out from over her ear. She shouts “what’s all the commotion?” Freezing at the sight of all the strays, Hun puts her hand to her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are these your friends?” She asks Clyde in sotto voce. Sauntering over to her like a swag king, he gives her the ‘Clyde caress,’ which consists of him purring, while he lovingly rubs the front and back of his head over her foot until she complies with his wishes.

            “Okay Clyde, I surrender,” Hun declares with a chuckle, “you win!” She quickly counts the strays.  “Whew,” she exclaims, “with twenty cats, we’ll be having ourselves one heck of a feline fete! Intermittent meowing fills the room each time Hun enters and exits from the pantry.  She carries trays loaded with a delicious smelling, mouth-watering banquet of lean pork belly, chicken liver,  and other kitty goodies that she fills into plastic bowls amidst impatient meows.  She rapidly puts the bowls around the perimeter of our hardwood floor to form a large circle which is instantly occupied with cats.  We four huddle together on the sofa, watching the homeless cats happily devouring their feast.  This shared experience of breaking bread, metaphorically speaking, has helped us to establish common ground.