MomBert seems to attract garden cats. Whenever I visit her, I usually get a snuggle from Bob nee Honeynut nee Yates. He is so soft and full of love and wiggles (He may be a long lost Wigglebothum relation) that I want to spirit him away to my house to stay indoors away from coyotes, hawks, road traffic, and all that would do him harm.
We’ve learned from his people who live four houses away through a patch of woods and yard space, that Bob and his buff colored sibling Wendell (The cats are all named after poets, but he’s been just Bob to us.) are released in the morning and expected to return home each night. We met his people and learned about their theory on pet care via a wanted poster when Bob presumably had not returned home for several days.
He camps out under a small pine by the birdfeeders or lounges on the front stoop eyeing chipmunks, but unlike Calico the previous queen of the garden, he’s never brought us any furry gifts. When he initially arrived in the winter, watching cardinals in the snow, MomBert offered him a bed and some shed space, but he declined preferring to trek back home.