This month I lost Precious, a wild cat we trapped and tamed from back in '92. Old age claimed her. I did take her to the vet at the last as she was obviously dying but lingering. Do not like seeing them suffer and how can one tell? For sure all goodness was gone from her life. Like the end of an era. She was the last of the cats from that time.
Sky is doing nicely. Quiet little dog, literally and also in the sense of calmness around the house. He can bark, I have heard him, but only two or three times has anything close to a bark come out of his mouth. Sky is learning sit, down, a couple of tricks. Loves to play fetch. Loves to hassle Harry the cat who does not seem too perturbed about it. Today Sky and Harry alternated getting treats. Sky learned to wait patiently for his turn and was very quick to accept that, lie down and wait politely. Now he curls on a footstool near me, sleeping soundly.
The back yard fence has been worked on to keep the cats in. Wire all around except for the gate. Harry can only get out over the gate. No one else tries that. To get back in Harry must likewise come in over the gate and he hates that. It's a long drop for a heavy cat. So he sits on the roof of the cat pen and looks at me. I carry a chair over to the gate and hold it up about half way. Harry climbs down onto the top of the gate then carefully jumps into the chair. I don't care how carefully he does it, 15 pounds of cat hitting that chair is a jolt for me and I let the chair dip a few inches. Harry handles that with aplomb. And continues to sit there. So I then carry the chair with Harry in it back to the porch. Dang cat. Should get the gate fixed tonight so Harry can't get out. My back can't wait.