photo by Pearl, of course. :)
This is Solo.
She's a neighbor's barn cat.
I think she's our cat now.
Either that, or she's playing both of us.
I do know that Hobbes, our cat, is wildly smitten with her and spends his days following her from tree to pasture to tree again.
She would rather he find a new hobby.
I see what he sees in her though.
The perfectly clean, raven coat and the enormous golden eyes are hard to resist.
She's a wee bit of nothing.
I'd guess she's less than 4 pounds and tiny from head to tail.
I think the fact that she showed up at the barn, barely able to walk (about 4 weeks old) contributed to her diminutive size. Our best guess is that momma cat (feral) was moving her kittens and just petered out with little Solo when she reached the barn. There was never any sign of momma or any other kittens, thus the name Solo.
I say she's our cat now because she comes when I call her. She lets me pick her up and purrs up a storm when we're together. The neighbor says she runs at the sight of them. Their loss.
She's got a wicked side, too.
She'll love on me, roll and talk and purr one minute and the next she's latched onto my leg with all four paws and teeth to match.
She's an outdoor kitty. She prefers it.
She has places to go and rats to hunt.
If I didn't think it would be a terrible name, I'd rename her Tinkerbell.
She's just like the character from Peter Pan.
Full of spit and vinegar, standoffish and petulant.
She's also ready and willing to make my day by just being in my presence and purring.
Maybe she's not so much our cat, as we are her humans.
You cat owners know what I'm talking about.