We have a new cat from the SPCA. Doesn't he look right at home? It hasn't really been that easy. He and Tang and Magda spent a couple of days creeping around sizing each other up.
They seemed to have it worked out. So, the next lovely sunny day, when I knew I was going to be around the kitchen most of the day, I boldly let all three of them go out. They all promptly disappeared under the porch. An hour later Tang and Magda came back without the new cat. I'm thinking, "Oh, great. They've led him into the woods Hansel and Gretel style." And I started looking for him.
When I still couldn't find him at dusk I was pretty frantic. Shortly after dark, Belinda spied him with a flashlight, sitting calmly about a hundred feet away at the edge of the woods. I tried to circle around him so that when I got closer to him he wouldn't panic and run toward the road. But still no luck. He fled into the woods.
We returned to the house to regroup. I couldn't think what to do. But I left the kitchen door open and fretted. I think it always helps to worry. Maybe a half hour later Belinda said, "Don't move!" Of course, I moved. But just a tiny bit - enough to see him sneaking cautiously into the kitchen. Whew. I slammed the door.
He started whirling on the floor and purring ever so loudly and quickly ate up his supper.
There's a longer, more harrowing story about the second time I let him out. But suffice it to say I won't be letting him out again any time soon.
Here's one of the most special things about him. Look at those eyes.
Maggy called him White Cat, which we shortened to WC. But when you say it out loud, of course, it isn't shorter at all. So we settled on Winston. WC - Winston Churchill. Get it?