PBW: Vagrants

Photo Blog Wednesday

Bigfoot started hanging around our veranda about five or six years ago. Initially, he wasn't very friendly and we couldn't get within a foot of him before he'd bare his fangs and hiss. My mom began referring to him as “Bigfoot" because he was a polydactyl, with an extra “thumb" on each of his front paws. Over the years he's come and gone, keeping his distance when my mom put food out and coming to the dish only after she went back inside. At some point in the last few years he's gotten tamer, likely due to hearing loss, and he's even meowed and rubbed up against our legs when we put food out. Once or twice we've even been able to pick him up briefly, before he remembered he was wild and squirmed free. Jealous, or perhaps forgetting that he himself was once a vagrant, Chirp got out on us a few years ago and chased the larger Bigfoot into the woods behind our house. We could hear cries and scuffling, but couldn't find them until they burst across my mom's garden and, to our horror, ran across the street and into the yards in the center of our block. My mom walked around for hours looking for Chirp, and I headed to neighboring blocks, with no luck. Despondent, I finally gave up and came home, to find Chirp sitting on our back steps giving me a look that seemed to say, “open the door, already." Sometimes I think that cat has a mind of his own. As for Bigfoot, my mom still leaves food and he still shows up through all the seasons of the year. I don't think anyone will ever tame him, but I suspect he makes his rounds from house to house, and we're not the only family that takes care of our multi-toed friend.



When you put a bowl of catfood on the front walk, you run certain risks. Unwanted visitors ranks as the top reason my dad isn't a fan of my mother's generosity. Many was the night we've heard noises and flipped on the driveway light, to see a bold raccoon or two sitting by the dish, picking up the food with its claws and nibbling away. Many are the size of a small child and don't seem to fear us. The light is a minor annoyance to them. Other visitors include our neighbor's pets and Eddie, pictured above, is one of the boldest. Eddie belonged to a little boy a few doors down who, along with my friend's little brother, used to chase my car on their skateboards and hit it with twigs when I first started driving. At some point I blinked, because the last time I saw the kid he was taller than me, had tattoos and long hair, and was racing down the street on his motorcycle with his girlfriend. Eddie, or “stupidface" as I call him because of his flat face, big eyes, and vacant expression which the photo doesn't fully capture, will come to the dish even when another cat is there, slowly move closer at the rate of one foot per minute, and then finally swat the other vagrant away. The only thing Eddie seems to fear is people, and he'll make a beeline for the trees if we so much as open a window. My mom is the only one of us who's been able to get close to him, and that's a fairly recent development. This shot was taken from my bedroom window seconds before he turned and ran away.

My mom’s always said that we don’t choose our cats; they choose us. I have a feeling that word spreads in the feline community of this great haven, and they all journey here eventually.