Sitting in my parked car behind the apartment on the phone, I was visited by "Gray Kitty 1" or "Light Gray Kitty," one of two littermates who are the survivors of a band of five that were trapped, neutered, vaccinated and released three or four years ago by one of the other women who lives in the apartment building.
She and some others feed the cats. The Siamese-looking one died under the porch two years ago, another one got hit by a car and the mother left long before.
The gray cats come to our windows (on the third floor), but do not eat what I offer. They are strange in that they no longer run away but want nothing more to do with me, at least, than a short verbal exchange and as best as I can describe as some kind of pyschic acknowledgement.
Since both cats look fairly alike these days, except for their battle-wounds, I do have a hard time telling them apart and sometimes doubt that there are two cats. I have no idea which cat likes me more.
Occasionally I see them at the same time.
They always have that same look on their faces. They rarely "smile." There is no high tail-touting, either.
I say "hi" to them when I see them out in the parking lot. They say "hi" back to me, very quietly.
After about 15 minutes, this cat (yes, he has a patch missing from the top of his head) jumped off. I finished my phone call about five minutes later and went inside.
I think it's funny that the cat was then sitting on the hood of our other car. Unlike mine, it would have had no engine warmth left, having been parked for over an hour in the 30-degree evening, which again hints at some kind of draw to another kind of heat-energy. Why else do cats stalk humans?
I know they like to pysche us out.
Of course, birds live in our apartment, and maybe that's all there is to it.
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