Kwafty kitten.
Day 5 dawned with an empty live trap that showed signs of a visitor who has learned how to get the goods and get out. So tonight I’ll experiment with a slight change in the trap’s position on the sidewalk – angled against the garbage can to deter the dine-and-dash strategy.
George thinks the behavior is more indicative of a raccoon than a cat, a belief harbored by a few other of the eternal pessimists in my life.
And maybe they’re right. Maybe my two-a-day visits will reveal that the only animal I’m fattening up for the frigid winter ahead is indeed a raccoon. Or a possum. Or a rat, a squirrel or some other undesirable, undomesticated wildlife.
But maybe it is the little blue-point Siamese. And maybe her eventual capture will end happily for all of us – her, me and the young convenience store employee who will once again be able to look me in the eye and greet me with a smile because I’ve stopped crawling around on the sidewalk. In the snow.
And maybe, George will make sure that “MILK” and “BREAD” are highlighted in big letters the next time he makes a grocery list.
From Four Sticks Farm 