Herban Sprawl

I admit it. I’m the neighborhood drug dealer. To cats. I have a couple of pretty hardy stands of ‘nip that gather a lot of action, much to the chagrin of my own cats, who take a dim view of the punks who swagger past their windows and ROLL in it, for crying out loud. The nerve!

My friend Mildred cackles about this kind of behavior. Their eighth cat is called Henry the 8th - when it comes to persons who care about cats, Mildred and her family are right up there. The world is full of cat lovers and we have plenty of funny stories to tell.

But back to my backyard dealership. There has been an adorable black and white kitty visiting. I’m pretty sure he’s a he, but I need Big Kitty to pick him up and make the determination. He wiggles out of my grasp. Loves to be petted and talked to, but gets nervous about more aggressive handling. Charlie, our black and white fella, seems to have reached some kind of black and white brotherhood agreement with him. ‘You patrol outside, and I’ll handle inside.’ Simon, predictably enough, hates his guts, and Barney just keeps an eye on things. Barney seems laid back, but he has his moments.  Don’t mess with the big guy.
B&W Kitty and I are gardening buddies. He hangs out and offers encouragement while I swear at the slugs and weeds. I talk to him, pet him and generally give him motherly advice about looking both ways before he crosses and such like. He’s a really nice kitty and it kills me that he is outside, with no collar and no parental supervision.

Okay, disclosure time: my cats are indoor cats. I don’t want them out and about collecting fleas, diseases and injuries, or worse. I’m not a fan of outdoor cats, and even less so when I step in their calling cards in my yard! I acknowledge that some of my best friends let their cats out, and I keep my big yap shut, but Big Kitty and I are united on this front. We don’t like outdoor cats because of what can happen to them.

A case in point occurred yesterday. B&W Kitty came for some kitty weed and to hang out, but as he scampered across the hill, he was also incurring the wrath of a mean-looking groundhog. The healthiest damn groundhog in the nation for all the echinacea he’s been chomping on in my precious prairie garden!  He’d just gamboled past the groundhog, who can move pretty fast for such a fatso, and the groundhog was giving him a murderous look. B&W Kitty was standing on one of my terraced herb beds, taunting him when I caught his eye from the window and waggled a cautionary finger at him. Then I went outside and groundhog scuttled back to the neighbor’s weedlot, where he stayed until he thought the coast was clear.

How do you explain to a young cat that youth and inexperience are no match for a mean, nasty, well-equipped groundhog? They’re like teenagers. They think they are invincible. I hate that groundhog, and now, the idea that he might hurt this adorable kitty is bothering the daylights out of me. If B&W Kitty had a collar and tag, I’d call his home and let the family know he’s in probably danger and to please try to keep him safe.

BGF has a black kitty who roams his neighborhood. He’s given up on collars. Midnight slips them faster than Houdini. it could be that B&W Kitty does, too. Nevertheless, Midnight’s neighbors all know where he calls home. I don’t have this luxury.So, I worry.

I need to attend to the little seedlings of unwanted flora that has erupted like a bad case of pimples in my prairie garden. I swear, I have had more trouble with that darn area. I’d have glorious coneflowers waving in the wind if Fatso hadn’t chomped the tops off. I’m trying to get a really thick clump going, but at this rate, I’ll be lucky if I get one stem to cut and bring inside. Meanwhile, I’m adding other native prairie plants and hoping that one of these days it will look as full and lush as the butterfly garden.

I also need to replace one of my showercaps, as I developed a huge hole in it yesterday while Stephanie was making fun of them. She even took a picture of my green Chucks covered with caps and posted it on Facebook!

The House Goddess had already taken one look at the caps and erupted until she realized, “You using them to keep you from tracking in dirt, ain’t you?” “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I do not want The House Goddess to take off after me with a Swiffer after she’s just cleaned up another one of my messes!” The House Goddess gave me one of those mama looks that strike terror in the hearts of bigger and stronger types than me.

And so it goes down here in the holler. Groundhogs, showercaps on my Chucks and catnip addicts. Now if I could just find the pump for my fountain…