Open Range: Not my cat

Lyndel Meikle

Alexander Deedy

For months now I have been visited by a large, furry feline. It has a good home elsewhere, but is a rambling sort of cat, and I am not the only human on its itinerary.

It likes dogs and cats and it chases bicycles and sticks. It assumes any door which is open is an open invitation, but it merely conducts a quiet and thorough inspection of the premises, gazing thoughtfully at the décor before wandering back out.

I understand its official name is either Cat or Kitten and for a long time I called it “Not My Cat”, but its fur is long enough to braid and I call it Hairball.

In any event, s/he (the gender is a mystery) has some unusual talents which set it apart from dozens of other cats I’ve known, from hostile barn cats to playful kittens.

I have never before seen a cat attempt to assist in planting a garden.

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