"If God is a cat...."

".... then you've got it made."

That's what my dad used to tell me when he saw how I took care of our cats.

The orange/white stray is not only back on our porch, but making himself quite at home here.  He has chosen us, but I certainly have not chosen him.  The orange/white (I refuse to give him a name) has made friends with Mickey, who no longer chases the stray off the porch.  They sit there and look at one another.  (Creamsicle would be a perfect name for the stray... he looks like those Good Humor ice cream bars with vanilla on the inside and orange on the outside.)

Mickey doesn't seem to mind when the orange/white eats the Meow Mix from the bowl on the porch, although Gatsby growls under his breath the whole time.  The orange/white has also walked into the garage for a look-see, but quickly came out again when he discovered that Gatsby was in there.

My husband and I have been trying to get very friendly and close to that stray, because I truly want to get him into the crate and off to the shelter so he can find a new home.  As soon as the stray sees that crate on the porch, though, he tends to keep his distance.  My guess is that someone had captured him in a crate or a catch-release trap before, which is probably how he ended up here in the first place.

This orange/white is definitely a male, and an un-fixed one at that... he has already left his mark on the back screen door many times, and I'm tired of cleaning up his territorial markings.  The stray cat may like it here, but I don't like that he's here.  Two outside cats is more than enough, and I don't want to be adding to the cat-zoo on this property.

And Spring has finally, officially begun in the Hill Country.... the bluebonnet seedlings are popping up out of the ground, and people have started to sell puppies in the WalMart parking lot.  I'll have to wear blinders when I drive into WalMart now.