O.F.F.

This is the Other Feral Friend.
The one without the bald spot.
Not on my car.
Until I left.

This morning I saw one of them coming down the alley looking guilty, scooting along. Sure enough, there is a bicycle crashed in the middle of the alley, with a black trashbag nearby probably containing someone's worldy possessions. These cats are secret operatives for U.F.U., which apparently has some kind of anti-homeless-person component. Or, I'm making light of the fact that someone had a really bad night a bit south of my home. I didn't hear anything nor have time to wander without cat escort halfway down the block to see.