Fred and Ricky

Andy and I were out early for our first walk of the day when an older gentleman strode past us. I did a double take when I saw Fred and Ricky trotting along in his wake. Fred and Ricky are the neighborhood cats. When the man got to our driveway, the three of them stopped, and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag, and put a handful of cat treats on the ground for them.

"Friends of yours?" I asked him curiously.

"Oh, yes, we've known each other for some time now. I started carrying a little cat food for them, and now they're always waiting for me. Are they yours?"

"One is," I told him, "sort of. The other one sort of lives across the street."

Fred began hanging around about seven years ago. "Don't you start feeding that cat," Jimmy cautioned, but of course I did. Eventually I took Fred to the vet for shots and things, and was asked, " Would you like to get him neutered while he's here?" I agreed that that was a good idea, but an hour later, I got a phone call. "This cat you brought in? It's a female, and she's already been spayed." But Fred she was and Fred she has remained.

Ricky is a large handsome Siamese-looking cat with crossed eyes, and hind legs that are about an inch longer than the front, giving him the look of a car whose rear tires are jacked up a little too far. Ricky's primary domicile is with Dick and Lori Campbell across the street, although he spends a lot of time on top of the Drumhellers' cars.

Ricky doesn't take any grief from anybody, and will sit in the middle of the road, giving you his peculiar cross-eyed glare and dare you to run over him. He has also boxed Andy's ears on several occasions, sending him yelping.

We don't know how old Fred and Ricky are, or where they came from, or what their past was. They're just a colorful part of the neighborhood.