Work is calling me back to London. The bonus of going 'home' is that there are 'cats you can cuddle'. And I always look forward to seeing Zaldi, Zita, Scruffy and Mizuki, the London (pet) cats
You can't cuddle the cats in the village. Frank Sinatra (more on him anon) is the closest it comes, and that means weaving around one's legs and trotting after Rosa with his tail in the air. But I think if you tried to pick him up you'd be shredded! One thing that is very sweet, is that Bette Davis purrs loudly when you feed her. Isn't that gorgeous? Zorro still hisses, and Nigel (yes, NoNeck is now Nigel - thanks Rachel!), well, he looks at you, slightly cross-eyed, in his 'stunned-mullet', yet endearing green-eyed way.
What with Josefa feeding them macaroni, and Adam feeding them cat food for another 10 days, the colony should be fine. In a month's time the plan then is to really get stuck in to some neutering, with my friend and erstwhile feral cat expert, Lisa. There are at least five young cats to get on with as well as a few males including Nigel and Ron.
I worry about Ron. He is thin and has some damage to his neck. Did Nigel have his teeth sunk into that neck? He is frightened of Nigel but doesn't appear to see him very quickly when it is frankly very obvious he is there (skulking under the car, or sitting on top of a pile of wood). Here he is catching some rays next to the new shed. Failure to keep one eye open at all times is a great error! Adam is going to feed him up for the next while.
Frank Sinatra doesn't come around at all these days. Rosa, who lives in another part of the village (50 meters away), feeds him, and I left her with some steroids (thank you Lisa) and antibiotics at the end of August, to try to clear up the nasty sores on his front legs. Well, that worked a dream. He is looking really good. Here's a pic.