Column: Constantly coping with a continuous cavalcade of cats

My husband, Paul, and I have four cats, who live inside the house. Then we have the three cats who live in our yard. Or at least they think they do.

We’re used to having various felines passing through our property. I think our city block once had a large common area in the center, for grazing animals. As times changed and more houses were built, pieces of the common became private property. Our long yard runs north, to the middle of the block, while the property of the neighbors directly behind us runs south, also to the middle of the block.

Parcels of various sizes and shapes complete the block’s large green space, which is punctuated by outbuildings and fences. This provides a perfect playground for the neighborhood cats.

We recognize and can name the pets of our near neighbors, which include a tortoiseshell, a black-and-white, and a tabby. They occasionally hang out in our yard. But more recently, three newbies arrived from unknown locations. In fact, as I look out the window now, one is lying atop one of our woodpiles, grooming himself.

They’re all in good shape and don’t beg for food, so I’m not worried that they’re strays. I’m just amused at the way they treat our backyard like it’s their living room.

One is a slim mackerel tabby we call Slinky. Then there’s OO7, a debonair gray and white fellow. Rounding out the trio is Butterscotch, who is orange and white.

Slinky favors the dooryard that nestles in the back ell of the house. He enjoys drinking out of the low Zen-style bird bath, and lying on the brick and stone surface nearby. This location, under a pear tree hung with bird feeders, is a young cat’s dream come true.

The other two also come through to drink from the bird bath, and 007 has lain on the lounging spot from time to time. But I sense Slinky has claimed it for his own.

The gray cat seems to prefer the bigger back yard beyond the garage. One day I startled him, and he started to run off, but he kept looking up over shoulder at a tree. He must have been doing some birdwatching, and hated to tear himself away. Butterscotch wanders in and out of the yard at random. We have no idea where he comes from or where he goes.

Now that gardening season is pretty much over, I don’t mind the cats hanging out. When they use my garden beds as litter boxes, I am not happy, especially if they are food beds. I don’t care what they do in the empty beds.

The outside cats, like all felines, have their own personalities. Slinky is friendly. When Paul was moving piles of firewood the other day, the tabby stayed nearby. He rolled on his back so Paul could pet his stomach. Sometimes cats use that move to catch your hand in their claws and dig in, but Paul was wearing heavy work gloves and avoided injury.

I’ve been able to talk to and gently touch 007, but he generally keeps his distance. Butterscotch is elusive.

Our inside animals, which also include two dogs, are not amused by their outside counterparts. The window in the dining room, which has a bench in front of it, is a favorite perch for our cats. It looks out over the Zen bird bath, pear tree and bird feeders. Birds and squirrels are frequent visitors. Sometimes one of our cats will “bark” at a squirrel, but the sound they make when they spot Slinky, 007 or Butterscotch is more of a hiss and wail. The dogs seem to recognize the signal, and rush to the landing that leads out to the deck, which overlooks the same view. Sometimes the rogue cat is alarmed and rushes off, but more often, they just gaze at the house, bemused.

Paul is annoyed when it’s 8 p.m. and one of the dogs still needs to do her business. Quinn the chocolate lab can wait until morning, but Martha the pit bull mix wakes Paul up at 2 a.m. now and then. So he really likes to make sure she is on schedule at bedtime.

The other night, he came back in growling after an 8 p.m. backyard round with Martha. “There are three cats out there,” he exclaimed. Martha was totally distracted from the task at hand.

The other problem with cats in the yard is the sad fact that they are predators. All cats are; some are more vicious than others. Paul was not amused the day he found a headless squirrel.

I’m not blaming any of our visiting trio, but I have done a lot of planting to attract birds, bees and butterflies to our yard, and I certainly would be disturbed to catch Slinky, 007 or Butterscotch with a creature in its mouth.

We don’t let our own cats out because we lost one once. She went into our busy street and was run over. The outdoor cats who come from houses on the quieter back streets of our block seem to fare better. One set of neighborhood cats, siblings, lived well into their teens and died of old age.

So I wish Slinky, 007 and Butterscotch long and happy lives. If they can keep their hunting instincts under control, they’ll always be welcome in our yard.

Except when Martha really, really needs to focus on making a bathroom call.