One reads. The other one jeers.

The newest (and youngest) two that we have in the household is Maggie and Jenny. 

The sisters showed up on a stormy evening in September 2010 and long story short, after a couple of months waiting for a suitable new owner, I made the decision to become just that. I can tell you that I didn't do it because I needed  to add to my crazy pack nor to fill in a psychological void. I did it because it was really hard to earn their trust (especially Maggie) and when they finally decided it was ok to be around humans without fearing the worst, I didn't have the heart to hand them over to someone else. It felt like betrayal if I had sent them away after they finally decided it was safe to not be scared of us. They were born feral and didn't have a pinch of trust for people and even now, they aren't friendly among unfamiliar faces. Plus, Parsi wanted a posse of his own. Boy, did he regret that later on because they can't seem to understand his want for "me time". That's what you get Pat for refusing to be my lap cat. Now you get to have not only one, but two of your own! 

Maggie: "Oh My Spinx! Did ya know that wizards wear pointy hats so that they could communicate with aliens?!
It's MINDBLOWING, right?!" Parsi: "UGH! She reads ONE BOOK and then she thinks she knows EVERYTHING!"

Being the young ones, they usually like to put on their glittery heart-shaped glasses on and think about new ways to catch butterflies and geckos successfully. 

Jenny (right) likes the outdoors while Maggie (left) prefers the house furniture but they make time to wrestle with one another everyday, in and outside of the house. They're both terrified of male human beings but have a lot of love for male cats. As I mentioned before, they're quite attached to Parsi as if he's the one who rescued them from the streets. But now that they've gotten older, Parsi easily gets miffed over Jenny's clingy nature but still tolerates her in his posse because his heart is not as dark as his fur. But don't tell anyone because if word gets out, he'd lose "street cred".

It took a while to tame them and to have them accept us for more than the source of food, but now not only do they trust us gangly-limbed giants but they also seem to "like" us too. Maggie will come up to me and hang around. Occasionally she'll subtly rub against my leg, but more often than not, she prefers the legs of furniture nearest to where I'm standing. Jenny is also not much for tactile affection but prefers to be vocal. It would be cute if she didn't sound like she's trying to warn us that the house is on fire every time she opens her mouth.

They've settled in quite nicely and every day they get fatter and fatter because they'll eat at every chance they get. Life was hard on the street. Now that it's cosier, it's time for first world problems even though they only live in a "developing country". Next thing you know, someone is going to have a problem with the kind of plastic their cat bowl is made of and after that, will start questioning why they can't ride in a leopard print designer bag instead of the old pet carrier that's so yesterday. I can already see it now, these budding divas are going to demand they show up in style at the vet for their yearly jabs or make you carry them around the building to enter through the back door.

What's that? I'm projecting a hint of regret, you say? No, of course not! There are no regrets in keeping them. None at all. Just ask Parsi who is constantly diving into the ditch to get away from all their wants and needs. Seeing Parsi get grumpy is what we all live for :)

Note: If you like the funky glasses, you can get a pair of your own at PuglyPixel.  

Food Chain

Benny is known for his love of food and trash but I know he doesn't have a particular knack for hunting.

However, just a few minutes ago he caught a poor little sparrow and brought it home in the rain =(

The cats occasionally catch unsuspecting birds but I'm never quite sure which one is responsible for making us humans schedule an unexpected burial. I was closing a window when I saw him with the unfortunate creature hanging upside down from his jaws. He set it down underneath the outdoor table and I could see that it was clinging to the last moments of its life. The slow and subtle rise and fall of its breathing. Having sensed my disapproval, Benny then transported his victim to the back of the house.

I know Benny was hungry because all of the cats are ever so impatient in the last couple of hours leading to feeding time at 7pm. But I also know that he's not going to eat that bird he just caught. It's just his natural instinct to kill.

I hope the little bird doesn't have anyone waiting for it to bring home dinner.

UPDATE:-

Sure enough, half an hour later we find him by the side of the house with Peekaboo standing by waiting for a lapse in Ben's concentration in preserving his kill so he could snatch it away and bat at it to his heart's desire. We tried to take it away from Ben but it was clear that he was not done with his fresh dead plaything. He ran off with it out of sight.

Not 5 minutes later I enter the kitchen to see him hanging around the cat dish. The winged thing was not within view. Knowing how the cats would not likely let a good thing go to waste, I was pretty sure the bird was in the house somewhere being presented as a "slightly used" gift. We found it scattered in a pile of its own feathers underneath the kitchen table. Symbolic, no? I guess Ben's an angsty artist. After all, he wears a broody expression with his black fur pretty darn well. If only he had let us take it from him earlier so we wouldn't have had to take out the broom. But some people like to make their gift giving a dramatic gesture.

Thank you, Ben.

And yesterday, Ben's momma, Kecik, brought a salamander in. All sleek and slimy and ALIVE!

The look on her face said something along the lines of "What? It'll go well with the sparrow. You haven't cooked it yet, right? I'm sure I saw it in the freezer".

Steamed Sparrow with a side of Salamander, anyone?

UPDATE 2:-

Its final resting place. 

And here lies a broken sparrow to be recycled and forgotten as per nature's way, under a heap of earth. The shovel temporarily marked its grave until we had to use it to remove cat poop on the ground. At least we didn't just chuck the poor bird unceremoniously into my neighbor's yard. Not my next door neighbor, but the evil one across the street. The mean retired man could have used something to do but he would have done it with hate and we felt that the bird should at least have had a prettier face to send it off to its grave.