Ginger-And-White is a big, feral tom cat, with the sort of expression that says "extra garlic with my babies for breakfast." He was a minor character in last-year's retelling of the classic love-triangle, Romeos and Oubliette (I love you... No, I love you... Forget it, both of you...)
G&W now lives in our barn. I put some food out for him morning and evening – any additional snacks are his business to catch.
He has been a regular resident for a few months, but with no set routine until a few weeks back when he started hanging around, waiting for breakfast. Now we have a regular morning conversation as I walk in to the barn:
G&W jumps off the hay bales, retreats a safe distance and hisses at me.
I tell him "that's not very nice."
G&W meows at me with a tone of voice that says: "Watch it, writer. I invent worlds as well. Worlds of hurt and bloodshed..."
I tell him "that's better."
G&W blinks at me.
I blink back and put the food down.
It's a relationship of sorts.
Relationships evolve. For the last few days, we have skipped the whole hiss and meow bit. G&W just watches me from the far side of the hay bale. There's still the promise of hurt and bloodshed if I push my luck, and he waits until I am outside the door before checking out breakfast.
The cat whisperer strikes again.