The barn is still there; the colony has been reduced to five cats, but not just through attrition. Three of the cats came out of their shells sufficiently to charm people and got themselves adopted. I say 'got themselves adopted' because we didn’t have to place them, they managed to worm themselves into the hearts of nearby folks, and we were approached with requests to adopt. The one exception was Little Gray Kitty. One winter afternoon when I went to feed the colony, she clearly had an upper respiratory infection. I had no trouble getting her into a carrier — we had been good buddies for years. The vet prescribed a course of treatment that required me to bring her home, and she’s never left. That’s how homes accumulate cats. It just happens. Another cat, the Katzenjammer Kitty, was the big male of the colony. He decided that he wasn’t getting enough food, so he took to crossing the street each day to sit on the picnic table outside the Syria Store. There he’d get extra rations. One of the ladies decided that was unsafe; she took him home, where he has ready access to his own TV remote and a choice seat on the couch.
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