He's got sharps on his clues!

I am not a cat person. There have been a couple cats I've tolerated for the sake of my friends -- perhaps even had a wry-yet-irritated affection for -- but I have no intention of ever owning a cat, myself.

Unfortunately, my new house seems to be made of catnip: A tiny black stray welcomed us the day we moved in, and refused to leave despite the total lack of encouragement from any of us. The day after we got rid of him (the previous owners, who came by for a friendly visit, decided they'd take the kitty to their new house), an adult Siamese showed up. He won't go away, either. I'm not feeding him. I'm not petting him. The girls wave from a reasonably safe distance (the toddler has a love/flee in terror relationship with cats), but in general we do our best to convey the message that we are not cat people.

Why won't he leave? (And if he does, are there others of his feline friends just waiting in the wings?) I thought Siameses were a valued breed; a cat that pretty ought to have an owner somewhere. An owner, incidentally, who is not me.

Sigh.

Plus I want all the cats gone so my sister in law can come visit me. She's horribly allergic.

On the bright side, though, we've got a new catch phrase out of the deal. The toddler, in explaining her fear to me, pointed to the cat's little paws as he stretched and scratched the wood of our deck. "Mommy," she said, "he's got sharps [claws] on his clues [paw prints ala Blues Clues]!"

And then she screamed and scrambled up onto a chair as fast as she could.


~RCH~