The other day, our neighborhood cat spooked our parakeets, who were/are on the floor and up close to the back sliding door.
The black-colored, green-eyed cat ran off along our shared wooden fence and sat on the dirt, underneath our still growing chayote squash vines of two.
I exited the back door and “stood my ground”. We both stared and waited for the next move. Being the more impatient of this exercise, I slowly approached it, crouching slightly with bent knees. It didn’t move as our gaze locked. Suddenly, it cocked its head as I inched closer and then it took off, climbing up and over the fence and into that divorced psycho nutter’s backyard.
My bad! We’re not cat people because we have parakeets, although the Squirrel wanted us to get one.
Overnight long ago, I tried adopting a gray kitty with a white/star-like patch on its forehead. I kept it in JoJo’s old parakeet cage before the Mexicana and her son picked it up. We didn’t have cat food or milk.
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