The two new cats showed up after being trapped by some of the volunteers and brought to the ranch. Michele kept them in the horse trailer, because cats often try to head home, no matter how far away they are, when they’ve been moved. She was out of town for a few days, so she told me to be sure to feed and water them. She put Sunflower Velcro in there too so an owl wouldn’t eat her.

Every morning I’d add some water to their bowls of frozen water and put some food in their other dish. I’d check on them at noon and then when I did the evening feeding. Velcro would be right at the crack of the door ready to see me. The other two cats were in the two furthest corners of the trailer as far as they could possibly be from one another. One of them was an orange and white cat that Michele called “The Flat Cat.” The other one was some sort of Siamese. They would stare at me, motionless in their respective curled up balls. I would make sure they were alive. The missing food and accumulated poop proved that they were, even though they never seemed to move otherwise. Satisfied, I’d scoop Velcro back into her prison/safe and wedge the door shut.

When Michele came back, she decided they could be released. The two new cats disappeared under the tack shed. We’d see glimpses of them from time to time and give each other reports on their sightings. They were obviously terrified of people. We weren’t sure they knew that the food was in the barn. Of course, Bear was in there too, and may not be keen on sharing. Soon we’d stopped spotting the flat cat, though not before Velcro started looking suspiciously pregnant.

Michele managed to catch the Siamese a couple of times and take it into the barn to show it where the food was. She left on another business trip, so I was in charge of feeding again. That Friday I opened the barn door to find Bear, Velcro, and the Siamese all inside. The Siamese was at the far side of the barn and had that deer-in-the-headlights look of whether she should flee or stay stock still. I spoke gently to her and turned my attention to filling the food dish on top of the rabbit hutch. Bear immediately came over and started eating. I leaned over to pet him, which he loves, enough to let me do it as much as I want while he eats. He even paused to rub his head into my hand before going back to munching as I baby talked to him. Velcro was trying to figure out how to get a mouthful without ticking off Bear.

I turned over to the Siamese as I stroked Bear’s black coat. “Would you like some loving too?”

“Mrorrr?”

“You can have some too. Doesn’t this look nice?” I gave Bear a satisfying caress.

“Roorrr?”

She took a tentative step toward me as I continued to stroke Bear. “You can come over here if you want.”

“Rerrr…”

I reached out my arm and met her halfway as she approached. I put out my hand and gently reached under her chin. She nearly went into a paroxysm of pleasure, as she tried to help me stroke her cheeks, talking loudly the whole time. I stayed at arm’s length, not wanting to freak her out.

On Monday the Siamese was again over by the tack shed. She looked like she might bolt as I approached, but I told her I bore dog food, and sprinkled some on the bench where she’d been sunning herself. She approached cautiously to eat and let me carefully touch her again.

On Tuesday I opened the barn door, and the Siamese came running up to me! I stroked her and put some food in the dish. Bear approached to eat his breakfast, but the Siamese slapped him in the face. He hissed and jumped backwards about a foot simultaneously, then stood there asking, “What just happened?” The Siamese turned her back on him and started chowing down.

On Wednesday Michele had returned. I asked if she noticed anything different about the Siamese. “Thinner?”

“Anything else?”

“Friendlier?”

The Siamese went to live with Lara this weekend, whose 22 year old cat just died.

But now she likes people.