COLUMN: It's raining cats and dogs at his place

The writer wrote last fall about some cats that had been born in a neighbor’s yard. A kind lady from Florence came over and managed to catch several of them. Then they were “fixed,” even though none of the cats knew they were broken.

They knew something was up, though, especially the momma cat who was hot to trot because she was going into heat again when she was caught. That won’t happen again.

I’ve been making steady progress with the cats since then. They have reached the point where they crowd around me when I’m dipping out the grub in their bowls. They still won’t let me pet them, but they appear to trust me more each day.

The cats are there when I get up in the morning and when I come home at night. They have gotten rather demanding, meowing that they want warm milk with their dry food. There’s been a lot meowing of late, which figures. It’s been rather chilly.

The writer was late feeding the cats Sunday because he was trying to make church on time. He then got lazy after eating a big meal in the middle of the day and took an extended snooze.

Upon the scribbler’s arrival in the kitchen, he was about to check his email. His computer is next to a window that is host to a window air conditioning unit. Because I live in an old barn, the unit is at least seven feet off the ground.

The columnist heard a loud thud on the top of the unit. My guard dogs immediately went berserk. They almost knocked me out of the chair as they rushed for the window.

The black cat with the white paws proceeded to ignore them and meow loudly because he was hungry. How he managed to jump on the AC unit is beyond my comprehension.

I went out and fed the cats. Rest assured they were waiting impatiently on me and not happy that the writer had forgotten to feed them breakfast.

Apparently word of the easy cat times around here had gotten, because I noticed that two extra cats had invited themselves to the feast. Whereas I had been feeding four healthy felines, there were now six, including a bossy big black cat who was claiming the grub for himself/herself.

The scribe doesn’t mind feeding the cats he more or less adopted, but he wasn’t about to start feeding the interlopers. Besides, the black cat and the other intruder didn’t look like they had missed a meal in their nine lives.

I ran them off and stood guard while the semi-official Dana brood ate, drank and made merry. They were serenaded by my dogs who barked belligerently from a window.

The writer hopes all the cats were fixed but is not sure that it really happened. He has suspicions about one who is considerably fatter than the others. If this is so then problems will ensue. There is no room in the inn for any additional cats. Four cats and seven dogs are enough.

The scribe has drug his feet on selling his English bulldog puppies. Charlie and Delta have got to find new homes. Rudy the runt will stay.

We’ll see how it all works out.

Morning News columnist Dwight Dana, or his dogs or cats, can be reached at 843-317-7259, or by email at ddana@florencenews.com.