They Call Me . . .

 . . . the Cat Wrangler.

Those who know me are cackling with glee. (OH. I can hear you!) I am NOT a cat fan, and yet here I am, crossing the street twice daily to feed and water these:

Seville

Smokey

Peck

My elderly neighbor has passed away. Her daughter lives in Texas and took one cat and the dog with them, but she didn't know what to do with the outdoor cats and she had to get back to Texas. I offered to feed them until she could figure something out.

Smokey and JD (not shown) were original cats, but the daughter has no idea where the other two came from and was shocked when I told her there were FOUR. (I didn't have the heart to tell her that when I fed them that night, there were actually FIVE.)

 Glenna named this one Seville because his tail is striped like a barber pole, so he's the Barber of Seville.

Peck (above, by the car) is short for Peculiar. He was so hungry for company he would follow us all around and reach up and pat our knees whenever we stood still. Then he would follow us home and sit outside our door and meow for a good hour.

They're super friendly (except for JD, which is why he's not shown) so if you have a desire to adopt them and take them home, be. My. GUEST.

Sigh.

I've actually not seen Peck or Seville all day, but I refuse to worry because NOT A CAT PERSON.