Another Cat

Looks like we have another cat. This one has been hanging around for the past couple of months. Very elusive. I tried to get close to it several times, but he wouldn't let me... until last Saturday evening. It was dark and I was very patient, calling and calling to him and he finally let me pick him up. It was like flipping a switch. One second, wild cat; next, my cat. He's a dark tiger coat, and definitely a he. (We'll have to get those 2 little things taken care of soon...) Turns out, he's very affectionate. And he has really big feet. I can't even guess his age, but I wouldn't call him a kitten... maybe he has yet to grow into his feet. Actually, he is about the same size as N.C., our orange cat that showed up this past May. N.C. and Henry, as we've named him, have similar markings, just different colors. It has made me wonder if they're related... possibly dropped off at the same time, just that N.C. adopted us more quickly than Henry decided to do.

He's Henry because we love that Herman’s Hermits song – it’s a favorite to belt out when we’re in the car on the road. Because these are the cats I’ve had:
1. Taffy – a wonderful Siamese mix, best cat ever, and I still miss her
2. Sabertooth, aka Sabbie – a small orange and white sweetie, one of 2 barn cats that loved to lay on top of my horses, all warm and comfy, and sleep, and I still miss her, too (& I miss my 2 horses, too)
3. Elfie – the other barn cat, a light-gray Persian mix who was like an ethereal being, long, long hair, strange eyes, and such an intelligent look, another cat I miss,
4. Nasty Maine Coon Cat – whose name I can’t recall, who drove off Sabbie for a time and picked on Elfie no end, definitely a cat that should live with no other cats, so I gave her to a friend of my sister’s, and good riddance
5. Cornelia, aka Corny – a small beautiful kitty that we should have named Cybil, what a psycho… attack-cat and my 4-year-old daughter just didn’t mix, so….
6. Francine, aka Frankie – our gray cat, getting on in age, one of the least affectionate cats ever, but still a sweetheart (and a good mouser in her younger years), and
7. N.C., or as Sam likes to spell it, Ensie, but it stands for New Cat, and he’s a doll, and one of the best mousers, chipmunk/mole hunters ever,
which brings me to:
8. Henry, because he’s Henry the 8th he is! Henry the 8th, he is, he is!!!!!

Now if he’ll just quit fighting with the other 2 cats all the time instead of just some of the time, life on the front porch would be oh so serene, as well as totally mouse-free.

p.s. People who drop off cats and dogs, including kittens and puppies, out on country roads just because they don't want them anymore really suck. Just once, I'd like to catch one of those assholes in the act, and when I catch them, I'd like to have with me a heavy stick of oak or other hardwood, such as a bat.