Pet pictures time, people!

Another photo of Freddie Freeloader. He appeared in the village in the Spring of 2020, just at the start of the Covid scare. Injured, filthy, starving and very hungry, he was not a promising specimen. My previous companion, Oscar, had departed this life a couple of years previously and I had convinced myself that I was too old (82 then) to take responsibility for yet another feline.

I tried to ignore this sorry creature until I saw him eating dry bread that I had thrown out for the birds. I bought some dry cat food and tried to place it where he would find it, but not be able to see where it had come from. That worked for a few days but then he started sitting on a wall, nearby, to observe the source of this manna from heaven.

Even so, he still thought he was stealing the food and would only sneak up to it once I was out of sight.

Then he realised that I was putting the food out specifically for him, and the inevitable happened. He started getting closer each morning, until he plucked up the courage to rub around my ankles. I bent down to stroke him and that was that. I've been feeding him ever since.

He became a proper house cat and for a while he was even a little bit cuddly but then he reverted to his "stray cat" mode of living. He will now come into the kitchen to be fed but spends most of his time outdoors. He will no longer go into the rest of the house and, in fair weather, he is out all night.

He had started to look after his appearance, grooming himself fastidiously, but he is back to looking like a scruffy ne'er do well. He seems very healthy, active and happy, and he purrs like a Massey-Ferguson tractor when I feed him, so I accept his chosen lifestyle.
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Every uke should come with a guardian. Mr. Blake camped out on the gig bag for four hours today to make certain no harm came to the bari. (Note the paw on strap). Either that or to keep me from practicing. Hmm, a music critic cat?
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