Casa de los Gatos

So it looks like we have a feral cat problem at our house. I've never cared for cats, much less wild ones. Carlos hates any kind of non-human animal unless it's animated by Dreamworks. A few months ago, this black and white thing started slithering in our backyard, scoping out the pool. Then the pool became its water bowl. You would think that chlorine and acid would kill them off eventually, but I guess feral cats develop iron stomachs. A week later, this cat started lounging by the pool, unperturbed by our presence. I would stand outside the sliding glass door, hands on hips, glaring at the trespasser and the cat would lazily raise its head and gaze at me: Yes? Is there something I can do for you? the cat would reply.

Eventually Carlos would go outside and "Shoosh!" the cat, or use the equivalent Puerto Rican expression: something like, "Chu-chi!" Both the cat and I would chuckle. This looked so lame and girly. It reminded me of my mom when she tried to scare away those obnoxious blue jays that terrorized the morning doves in her backyard. The cat eventually responded to Carlos by rising, stretching with a yawn and sauntered away with a look that said, Whatever, mujer. I'll be back tomorow. Same time. Same place.
And she was. I started calling her "Bitch". I know this label isn't zoologically correct, but the name certainly matched her attitude.

Then a larger calico-type (I think that's the kind) started showing up. This one would pass by our sliding glass door and gaze in, sizing up the furnishings and decor. If I stared, it would just stare back. I imagined the cat thought that whoever won the stare contest would win squatter's rights.
Both cats staked out napping areas in our backyard and front yard. I think this is because we have the nicest yard on the block. Well, we're the only house that has a working lawn (that is, alive) and we have shady, green plants as opposed to cacti. I don't think those are too enjoyable to nap under. In short, the cats have identified the Queens on the block: the best real estate and perhaps the most empathetic hosts. The cats know the neighbors around the corner with the dirt yard and the aluminum foil on the windows would catch them, barbecue them, and suck on their bones with ranch dressing and celery sticks. The other neighbors would have already taken out their guns, hung the cats out on the alley wall, and done some target practice. We can do that in Arizona, you know. I believe that's SB 1069.
Anyway, while I was gone and Carlos's relatives were visiting, his Dora-the-Explorer niece discovered that Bitch, the black and white cat, had a kitten underneath our shed. I didn't think a cat only had one kitten. What are all those teats for? Someone suggested that feral cats eat all of their rest and keep one for good luck. I have to look that one up.
This made me think: besides the odd bird carcass found in our front yard, how do these cats subsist? After the birth, the mother was extremely thin -- like Kate Moss thin. Bones were sticking out. Plus it was 110 degrees out. Talk about post-partum depression. She would lay out under a palm tree in our front yard, panting. Her look to me now wasn't I'm-so-bored-ennui, but: Hey, you kind-hearted childless man, can't you spare a tin of tuna and a plate of whole milk? I know you have it. I see what you recycle.

I was this close to offering food, but friends advised against it. They said once you give them food, you're opening up a can of worms, or sardines in this case. Soon, our place would be a feline version of Survivor starring the Aristocats.

Now I'm thinking the calico cat is the father since I spied a set of big balls from behind. If so, he's a pretty good dad for hanging around. I would've taken off weeks ago and set up camp behind the Jack-in-the-Box down the road. I really don't mind their presence. They can't get into our garbage and I guess they keep out rodents. My only concern is that dad is going to keep coming back for more and soon there will be more bitches around. We've already got enough of those in our house.