Sylvester

Sylvester is not technically our cat. He comes around quite frequently, sits in our lawn chairs, and tries to get in the backdoor to eat our cat's food. When he's looking pitiful enough we'll bring left-overs out to him. He ranges all over the neighborhood, and probably eats at several locations. I think he had an owner at one time because I have petted him occasionally. We theorize he was owned by the crazy lady that used to live three doors down. Every neighborhood has a crazy cat lady. You know, she's usually in her bathrobe and slippers, hair looks kind of witchy, has dozens of cats in her house. She's the one that calls the cops when firecrackers go off nearby. When she moved and sold her house the new owners tore everything down except the basic frame, because of the cat odor. So that's where we think Sylvester came from. He has survived worse than being on the street. For the record, with just seven cats, we are eccentric. Only after twenty or so can one be labeled "crazy"