This is Hoss.
Hoss is one of our neighborhood strays. She, and we think she's a she, is so named because she is a big cat. I mean, even aside from the abundant floof, she is broad and big-boned, long and with big feet. This is one hoss of a cat. She has that cut lip, which gives her a forbidding aspect, but this is not a forbidding cat.
Hoss is one of the sweetest, most human-oriented cats we've ever met. We'd seen her wander throughout yard a couple of times, but the first time we met personally, we saw her on the street as we were taking a walk. Hoss saw us, chirped, and trotted towards us, tail aloft. She doesn't shy away from ankle rubs and head bonks. This was an indoor cat with humans.
She's taken to showing up in our windows. We'll just be sitting around, doing our stuff, and...
...boom!
When we see her, I usually grab a can of food and a paper plate and give her a wee feed. She's learned we're a soft touch.
And there's the problem. We think Hoss is a stray, but we're not absolutely sure, and Hoss definitely wants to come in and be a home-cat.
Daisy will have none of it. Hoss makes grumbling, challenging, noises that we can hear through the glass when the two of them come face to face in the windows. When I feed Hoss, she often gets in a good rub around my ankles. When I come back in, Daisy spends minutes sniffing my cuffs and giving me confused, hurt, looks.
'Tis a pity, but it seems that Hoss will continue to be a stray. If we can find out from the neighborhood that she is actually a stray or a dumped cat then we may try to get her adopted. Until that happens, we'll keep on feeding her. And consoling Daisy.
Have a great week ahead, all!
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