WHO IS THAT CAT?

     The little yellow and white kitty is ready to come inside.
     We first met her about two years ago, when she started to walk past the glass door into our backyard. She always looked busy and didn't pay much attention to us. Time to time, Taka found a dead mole or a mouse in the grass, and we knew, the kitty did her job of keeping in check the rodent population.
     A couple of times I left food for her on the back stairs, but it was obvious: she was not going to rely on mere humans for her survival. 
     Then came the day, when she walked up to the first stair of the two and couldn't make it up any further. Her back leg hung useless, hardly touching the ground. 
     I began to leave food for her, where she could reach it. She (we don't really know, whether it's a she or a he. The cat is on the small side, though) took residence in the bird-of-paradise bush, directly opposite to the back door, and came, limping, every time we called her, while recuperating from her injury. 

This was about that sorry period of time, when Dr. Park, Roberta's Korean husband, moved into her little room and began to establish his "territory". By that I mean, he, at first, seemed like a wonderful, happy, very helpful man, only to show his true character later, when he began to yell at me for the smallest reason and mistreat Roberta. He scoffed at the fuss we made over Goldie - that's how we called our "outside" cat - but then, realizing, she was somewhat important to us, also began to take care of her. As soon as I'd inform them of Goldie coming for her meal, he would grab a handful of cat food and run to the glass door, yelling gruffly: "Goldi-a" - at the top of his voice. He usually scared her off, and came back, looking glum. 

Dr. Park immediately disliked Sylvie for her witchy bright green eyes and an attitude, that resembled his own. 

It's OK, she didn't like him either! 

Shady Park

Once I came home and saw a mailman, standing by the fence,  raptly watching, as Dr. Park, a sprightly 73 year old, showed up, running in full gallop after my male cat, Chicken Bone. We don't let our cats go outside, and Dr. Park readily took to enforcing that rule. If he just came up to Chickie quietly, he could've caught him without much effort, but Park's nature was different, and so, our neighbors were often treated to the spectacle of him chasing a puzzled tabby around

the house!
     But - back to Goldie. She recovered surprisingly fast and began to come over less often. Taka kept saying, we should not make a pet out of her, and I, seeing truth in that, didn't bother calling her name or looking for her.

Bring your laptop to a position, when the picture becomes lighter.

When Goldie started to rely on us more than before, I had no strength to reject her. She'd sit by the glass door, looking at our two well fed and spoiled cats and warm house interior, and I can see suffering on her tiny face. One problem with opening a door to feed her is: Chickie runs out for a quick bite of vegetation. It's not like I didn't buy special grass for him and Sylvie! He still feels, the grass is greener... well, you know... Because of my foot and knee problems, it's not easy for me to recapture him. Fortunately, Sonny responds to my requests to get the cat from the yard much faster, than when I ask him to help me with anything else...
     Goldie's bowl now sits on the top step, right by the back door. She took to sleeping in an empty cardboard box on the front porch. When she sees us coming home, she runs to the back and starts rubbing herself on the door screen in the anticipation of being fed. At times when Chickie sneaks by me and into the yard, she moves away to a safe distance, lies down there and watches the show, how Sonny catches Chickie and takes him back home. She, sometimes, tries to rub Chickie's side, when he dashes pass her, but my confirmed bachelor cat pays no attention to her or even makes a show of slapping her away with his paw. 

     The last time this happened, Sonny wasn't home. I knew, I'd have to go down the steps into the garden to fetch Chickie. I stood on the back porch and yelled at him with more fury than usual. Suddenly, Goldie appeared from nowhere. She caught up with Chicken Bone and, instead of being friendly, slapped him on the side with one paw, as if she was siding with me in telling him: "Get back, I tell you!" 
Another thing she does to assure us of her good intentions, is catch small animals, that inhabit the back yard and let us see her prey. Recently she played with a poor mouse for quite awhile, boxing it around and catching it again. The unfortunate creature's entrails decorated our patio for a few days. Once I saw her walking through the grass, dragging some larger animal in her teeth. It was a huge, at least, a foot long, lizard!
Every time I tried to pet her, she jumped back and pretended to snap at me with her teeth. Then she decided, it was not such a

terrible idea and let me touch her tiny yellow head. Now, it seems, she waits, when I would pet her! She sits by the glass door and watches us for hours. She makes a few steps into the room, when I open the door to feed her, as if gingerly asking a permission to enter.
 She can't Every time we attempted to foster a cat or kittens before, we ended up with huge flea infestation or a mess we couldn't deal with. So, Despite my pity for Goldie, she'll remain an "outside" cat.