aching for... something

Sometimes, the moments right here right now just don't content me.

I mean, there are places to see, people to meet, photos to take and careers to contemplate. And so much more!

There is a world out there, and it is waiting for me!

It is days like these that make me wish for the future in 5, 10, 15 years. Going to college. Having a job. Being an author, a teacher, a mayor of a small town, a vet tech, a dog trainer, a diner owner, a photographer, or maybe even something else. Getting married. And one day, hopefully, having kids.

 I have all these dreams, all these ideas, that cannot be fulfilled in the cream colored suburban house with a tiny backyard in a city named for onions. I'm sure many girls wish to live where I live. But I wish to live somewhere else. Somewhere rural.

 That's why I love road trips oh so much. Seeing all these houses and imagining the lives of the people who do call them home. Imagining myself in their place. Wild dreams. Hopeful dreams.

Even déjà vu sort of dreams, like driving through small towns and feeling as though you have been here before and as if you will one day be back.

That's exactly how I felt driving through a particularly charming town in rural New York state. The countryside outside of the town was so pleasant, and then I felt oddly as though I've been there before.

Maybe even as though I'd be there again someday.

Who knows? I just might.

(Note: these pictures have zero to do with said town. I stupidly did not take any photos there...)

Eventful

I had a very eventful Sunday that left my foot in a splint.

It all started in a picnic for my polish language school, which Mimi and I attended. We had just finished wandering the woods and attempting to film segments of our horror film (which went utterly horribly, by the way) and went to the open field where everyone was playing Dwa Ognie (literally two fires- it is a Polish kind of dodgeball). We began to play and I, having just been hit by a ball, went to the end of the field to help gather balls. I stepped in a hole, twisted up my left ankle, and limped back to the edge of the playing field, expecting the pain to subside in a minute or two. Whenever I twisted my ankle before, it was never serious at all and the pain stopped quickly. Part of me knew this twist was worse. It's hard to explain exactly how I knew. The twist seemed like, I don't know, five two-minute twists. I sat down, and my mother came over. Then Mimi got hit by a ball and she was out and came next to me too. So we sat there a little longer and I eventually got carried to the car, partway by a 'chair' made by my mom and Mimi. We went home. After an hour or two we dropped Mimi off and headed to the emergency room.

I got an x-ray done and this is what I understood is wrong with me. The bone isn't broken or fractured, but because I'm still growing this growth-thing-a-majig may be broken and it won't show. So after a few days I'll have to go see an orthopedist to see if it was a fracture as they can only tell if it's fractured once it starts healing. Because of this they treat it as a fracture and I got a neat splint done on my left foot. The splint reaches up to my knee. I also got a pair of crutches, and although the doctor said I could go to school tomorrow my mother said I shouldn't until I learn how to properly walk on crutches. It doesn't hurt too much; just mostly feels uncomfortable with a slight pain.

For some reason I can't upload the photo I have of my cast. Okay, got it uploaded!

Te man who was in the room with me had a catfish bone stuck into his thumb. It looked absolutely horrid! He also spoke Polish.

In other news, I was going for a walk yesterday and I saw the black kitten I blogged about a few weeks ago. He was in someone's yard. The tabby cat also comes by my house every morning and I fed him a couple of times, including this morning. Thanks for reading, and if this doesn't make much sense it's because I'm too tired to proofread.

Horror

Who doesn't love a good horror film? Even to those who, like me, half-cover their eyes at all the good parts and must possess a remote with a 'mute' button in order to go anywhere near a scary movie, horrors are appealing.

To put it simply, they are different. They make you think and simultaneously freeze up your thoughts so that only a pounding brain and a pounding heart remains. They scare you out of your wits and make your stomach fly.

Because the good horrors are the ones so realistic you turn to your friend half-expecting her to lunge hungrily at your throat and strangle you until your limbs hang limply from your sides. That make looking into the mirror give you shivers, or that turn a simple object into something deadly and powerful and utterly frightening. Those are the best kinds of horror movies. Sure, otherwordly monsters are freaky too, but only for the moment. The realistic films attack your psyche and drill into your brain to plant seedlings of terror.

I must admit I'm a novice when it comes horror films- having only watched several, courtesy of my best friend Mimi- but, despite needing to cover my eyes (albeit covering them with hands whose fingers are wide enough apart to allow me to peek through) and despite muting all the good parts, I just truly enjoy being thrilled beyond words at something so realistic yet so out of this world that it just leaves me trembling. I've liked writing short scary stories for years (though none of them were much of anything good), but I have never yet tried anything like this. No, it's not a novel- eventually, I'd love to write a horror novel, but this isn't it.

(Have you guessed it yet?)

It's a horror film.

A short horror flick, to be exact. Mimi and I are working together on it- several flicks, actually, but I have one that is a favorite. I hope that we'll be able to complete it by late December/early 2011. Write the screenplay, script, etc, by mid-October, film by the end of November, assemble by the beginning of 2011.

I'm not going to share the exact plot at the moment (we don't have a final plot seeing as we have several possible plots all based around the same idea) but I will tell you this:

-My favorite plot idea is a pretty realistic one- nothing about demons or ghosts or vampires.
-It involves the woods, murder, and two friends.
-With the agreement of Mimi, it may be posted online for you to see.

When we finalize the plot I may share it with you to get some feedback, and I'll update you all when we get underway. Any tips would be greatly appreciated!

(and sorry for the utter lack of photography these days. A post with photos coming soon, I promise!)

Intense

A deep, dark, navy blue sky to the west punctuates the few people outdoors hurrying about their business before the storm strikes.

Streelights click on.

Lightning, still in the distance, flashes ominously behind the clusters of houses and buildings that reduce it to simply lighting up the sky, providing an aura around the concrete world. The wind picks up, rolling dead leaves across the quickly emptying streets and flopping Beagle ears.

Then the first few rain drops: drip, drip, drip, drop. Drip again. And real lightning, true lightning, closer and closer and defined in all its glory.

Now real raindrops, hammering roofs and freeing the crackly red leaves not yet dead enough to depart their homes, their trees, on their own. Then silence. Ethereal, whole silence, of which there are nearly as many different kinds as of sound.

Like this silence, merely a break between storms. Like the one soon to come, bidding good-bye to the thunder. Until we meet again, it says. And the storm agrees heartily with one last lingering rumble of thunder. Silence need not reply.

Strange Faces

Have you ever looked at a face- either yours in a mirror, or a friend's or family member's- for a long time, only to see something strange? Something unusual, like an unknown face, one of an animal, a strange person, a freakish being? A parent's face, or odd, scary deformations?

The illusion, described here, can easily be triggered. Simply sit in a dimly lit room before a large mirror for at least a minute, and intently watch your reflection. A scenario that works is a dim lamp placed behind you (try a weaker bulb or put a towel over the lamp), while you sit or stand around a foot and a half from the mirror. Keep the lights off in the room. After about a minute, you should be able to see some changes to the reflection.

Creepy? I would love to try this out, but I'm hesitant and quite scared to do it alone. What particularly freaked me out was the comments below the article in the link. Some of them nearly sent shivers down my spine:

"I recall a person recounting an experience he had during a conversation with a friend, when the friend had an impression that another person was in the first person’s seat, at the same time that he had the feeling that his body was being occupied by someone else. "

"I just didn’t have the guts to sit there for more than 3 minutes, tops! My face looked distored, evil, smiling smugly, looking down on me. I couldn’t see my eyes due to the light, but the shadows in my eye sockets created the illusion of huge black abyssal eyes. The form of my face was constantly fluctuating, but always smiling and becoming more and more terrifying as time passed. There was nothing logically scary about the face, apart from a nearly paranoid sensation that I’m looking at myself who is me but not me and is looking back at me, no looking DOWN on me with a terrifying, otherworldly visage. It’s kinda like repeating your name out loud too many times until it sounds weird and alien only worse.

On another note, I’ve enjoyed talking with friends at night on the balcony and one told me not to look him in the eye when I’m talking because my face shifted and became someone he didn’t know. Someone he was afraid of.

Lastly, too many years ago as a very young kid I was looking at my mom sleep in a moonlit room until her face changed too and scared me so much I was seeing that face in my nightmares for a long time, until at an unspecified time years later this stopped once and for all with no apparent reason."

Insane, isn't it? Let me know how it goes if anyone decides to try it out.

Going Carbon Neutral

I saw this button on The Golden Eagle's blog and decided to check it out. If I post about this, and put the above button on my blog, they will plant a tree that will neutralize the carbon emissions from my blog. Apparently, my blog emits about 8 pounds of CO2 per year. This tree will neutralize that, plus more, as each tree absorbs about 11 pounds per year. I just hope the site is still running.

Interested? Make your blog carbon neutral! It's free, and even if you don't believe in global warming (I believe in climate change; it's happening) it's a great thing to do. Just click on the leaf picture above or on this link.

Big Steps

Okay, I did it.

*deep breath*

I signed up for Facebook. I (hopefully) won't get addicted to the site. Hopefully.

Of course I won't put a link to my Facebook on this blog, even if I ever find out how to do that. I dislike stalkers :)

And because I hate short posts, here's a photo I've been meaning to post for over a month.

Neighborhoods

It'd be interesting to hear what a building would say if it could talk. About the people who lived there, the neighborhood over the years, odd occurrences, famous visitors. More.

That's the sort of history that tends to be the most interesting. Not the year in which the Declaration of Independence was signed or which battles occurred on which days. Personal history. Neighborhood history. Small history.

That's why I've been fascinated with learning about the history of my neighborhood. I already knew that my house once stood on a farm (quite an accomplishment when right now the nearest farm is at least 40-50 miles away, if not more, and the house stands in a major city). I already knew my house was one of the oldest in the area- built in approximately 1924, if I'm not mistaken. I already knew that a house down the block was home to a little store way back when.

But I never knew that, on this very spot, people played golf. Yes! My neighborhood used to be a public golf course, for which this neighborhood is now named. But that's not the best part. The golf course was demolished in 1955, making way for a residential neighborhood.

But my house was built in 1924. Meaning my house once stood on a golf course. How cool is that?

The golf course was formed as public competition to the private, members golf course literally right next door. Back when this area was still the golf course, the two courses were across the street from each other. The private golf course is still there today. It's where, a couple years back, a criminal was caught hiding in a closet or locker room. I remember standing and watching as the police came in. But that's unrelated.

Wow. I would like to see what my house has seen. It would be absolutely incredible.

The Mosque at Ground Zero

THAT mosque? The one that's not even a mosque, but a community center? The one that's not even at Ground Zero, but several blocks away?

Oh, right. That mosque.

I am confused beyond words as to why this project has met even the slightest opposition. So it's a community center.... with prayer space for Muslims, Jews and Christians! Not just a mosque. A community center with, you know, pools and basketball courts and a library and a trampoline. Plus some prayer space. One built by Muslims, but, let's face it, the average Muslim is just not a crazed murderous Al Qaeda suicide terrorist!

And then there's the issue with distance. So, the community center (with prayer space for several major religions, not JUST Muslims) will be a couple blocks away from Ground Zero. Certainly not AT Ground Zero. That, everyone would have a problem with. So what's the issue? You can't possibly be telling me that 3,000 (regrettably) dead people would mind if a community center (with prayer spaces for several major religions, not JUST Muslims) was built several blocks from where they perished? How is that marring their memory or being a dishonor to America or any other wishy-washy nonsense people have come up with?

Victory shrine, my *ahem*! The people building this community center have nothing to celebrate about 9/11. Plenty of Muslims (other than the crazed murderous Al Qaeda terrorists!) were murdered that day nine years ago!

I am particularly (but not quite) stunned at the statements the Anti-Defamation League issued. They said while they have every right to build the 'mosque' that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do! Then the leader of the ADL wrote another statement because some (sensible, sane) people said that this first statement was bigotry. The leader listed numerous ways the ADL helped Muslims... blah, blah, blah! This second statement was titled, guess what, "The Mosque at Ground Zero."

This didn't come as too big of a surprise to me. The ADL claims to be acting against all bigotry, but all they care about is anti-Semitism. Their whole website is all about Jewish and this-or-other relations. There is other bigotry than anti-Semitism! Lord, even Jewish people defame others!

Anyway (I went off on a little rant there), back to the topic- the 'mosque.'

Both the Christian president Obama and the Jewish mayor of NYC Michael Bloomberg fully support the building of this mosque. Of course, Sarah Palin opposes the 'Ground Zero Mosque,' but I won't waste my time on her.

To be quite honest, I see no problem whatsoever with the building of this 'Ground Zero Mosque.' How do you feel about this issue?

We Remember

Nine.

Eleven.

Two simple numbers that, up until nine years ago, were just that- just numbers. But now, these numbers are heartbreakingly more. Much more. Too much more.

Because nine years ago, on September 9, 2001, Al Qaeda terrorist hijackers crashed jets into the World Trade Center. Into the Pentagon. And, almost, into the Capitol Building.

Today we remember those who lost their lives, in the towers, in the planes, and in the aftermath. But we also remember the heroes who saved lives- God knows how many- that would have been lost in the Capitol building. We remember the heroes on flight United 93, who crashed the plane into a field in Pennsylvania, killing everyone on board but saving innocent lives on the ground. We remember, because the worst that could happen is forgetting. Not learning from the lost lives. Leaving behind this modern history. We must remember, because forgetting is not an option.

If we, as Americans, forget 9/11, we forget ourselves and our nation and the dead have died in vain. If we remember, we can save lives and stop- and prevent- such a thing from ever occuring again. If even one life, two lives, twenty lives, are saved, if even one terrorist is prevented from detonating his bombs, hijacking a plane, those who lost their lives have not died in vain.

Today, I remember, although I was only four and whatever I may remember from the day is lost in the depths of my mind. Everyone has their own story, their own memory, from 9/11. What is yours?

School Means...

Sleep-deprivation. Too much homework. Ridiculous, demeaning binder systems. Feeling too skinny and too young for my age again. New turf fields. Ten hour long school days counting over-long, late bus rides. Chilly autumn air. Friends again. Immaturity. Stress and aches. Reality.

What does school mean for you?

It's been three days of eighth grade- nine of September- and already I look back into summer and wonder, did that even happen? Lounging in the warm sunny grass, wearing short shorts and tank tops without shivering, and endless hours that can be filled with whatever one desires- it all seems so long ago. Just about a week ago it was hot, humid, sunny and delightful outdoors. But then September struck, and ever since it's been chilly.

It's odd, isn't it? How once September rolls by the weather seems to cool down, however reluctantly, as though the earth knows and understands our odd calendars? As though Mother Nature must mourn the beginning of school and the loss of inquisitive children exploring her beautiful nooks and breath-taking crannies?

School begins. Reality starts. Summer (and freedom) ends.

And, to top off the summer, I leave you one of my favorite photos of Kusy:

Odds and Ends

This is going to be a post for all the collected odds and ends I haven't gotten around to posting yet.

First, I won Trinity Shea Pulse's photography contest. If you'd like to view my entry, click here. Here is my award:

Thanks so much Shea!

Second, I am entering a giveaway at (Of) Horsefeathers. Olive Tree is very talented and it is a pleasure reading her blog! Here is the button for the giveaway:

Third, about the cats: the orange tabby  is still coming by my house, just at different times each day. I was up reading The Hobbit on my roof on Saturday around noon when my brother noticed the cat walking down the street. I rushed out, hot dog in hand, ready for when the cat would walk back. I waited for around an hour, but the cat hadn't walked back yet. I left him the hot dog on the curb. I could have kicked myself for just barely missing the cat walking by! About the kitten: after reading your comments, I have decided that, should I ever catch sight of the kitten again, I will ask the cat man about her. I haven't seen the kitten or her mother since the day I blogged about seeing her. Hopefully I will see the kitten again, though. Her chances of surviving in urban streets (especially in the coming winter, and because of the coyotes in the area) are slim. Two-thirds of feral kittens don't survive the first year of their life!

Fourth, school starts tomorrow! Eighth grade, here I come! I am just upset that this year, my school will be using this ridculous binder system as though we are little kids who can't organze ourselves. The teachers will even be checking to see whether our work going home is on one side of the folder, and our work coming to school is on the other side of the folder. Ridiculous for 8th graders, especially since I'm in a 'gifted' program. Maintaning a binder organized to other people's standards won't make my work any easier.

Fifth, an update on Kusy. He is an incredibly talented bilingual (hopefully soon to be trilingual) dog. He knows sit, down, come, give paw, beg, roll over, and walk (a word for heel). My mother discovered that his previous owner must have taught him the command 'walk' because when he hears it, he heels! Incredible! He knows to beg and give paw in Polish (służyć and podaj łapę, respectively) and I am trying to teach him Hande Ho (well, it's pronounced like that), which is German for put your hands up in the air. I know this from watching old WWII movies. Anyways, he begs and I push his paws up, say ' hande ho!' and give a treat. We're also working on coming reliably. After that, I'll teach him to spin in a circle, and maybe close the door (it's all possible!). I also have this crazy idea to teach him to bring a tissue when you sneeze. Quite possible, but this will take ages and ages, I'm sure.

Sixth, I have my first photo contest entry! Thank you so much Mimi! Now hopefully you will just have some competition! If you'd like to enter, go here! Remember, the first prize is a complete blog makeover by me- that includes a header, background, signature and button, maybe more! The contest ends a week from tomorrow.

Being a Disciple of Jesus

First, I understand that some of my followers and readers may not believe in God, but I need to write about this.

Today at church, during the sermon, the pastor said that to become a disciple of Jesus, one needs three things. Now I have a poor memory and at the moment remember only one- to be able to leave everything behind, because God needs to be number one in your life. In the Gospel (Luke 14:26), Jesus said that "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters -- yes, even his own life --he cannot be my disciple."

The pastor reminded us that this 'hate' is not in the sense we understand today- not contempt, anger, or animosity. Rather, it is a ranking of affection. So,when Jesus said that to be a disciple one must HATE- He meant that one must LOVE God more than any of these people. In other words, to make God number one in your life. The pastor didn't explain it the way I wrote it, though. He simply said that to hate your family means that you must put God first in your life, in front on your family, and continued to give an example of Catholics marrying outside of their faith, or with a Catholic outside of church (so this Catholic would be putting someone else before God). That didn't sit right with me, exactly. I know God should be first, and I am trying to accomplish this, but why was there no requirement to love God in order to be Jesus' disciple and a disciple of God? I googled the part of the Gospel about hate in hopes of finding the whole passage, and I found this page, better (at least to me) explaining the requirement to become a disciple.

Now I understood much better. In order to become a disciple of Christ (as every Christian should be want to be), one must do whatever it takes to stay loyal to God and to Jesus. You must put Him first in your life, before money and pets and even loved ones. In the words of the page in the link above, "it means your allegiance and obedience to Him is not just a part of your life - IT IS YOUR LIFE."

I can't say I'm a good Catholic- sometimes I don't always agree with what is written in the Bible- but I am trying to do what God wants me to do. God knows I will make mistakes in my journey- I have many flaws, as each human does. I am trying to put God first in my life, though, and to glorify Him through what I do.

Help! What Should I Do About this Kitten?

Help me please! I was out on a walk this morning and I saw a little kitten! Pure black with eyes that are still a little blue (all cats are born with blue eyes, but around 3 weeks they begin to change color). She (again I'm mostly guessing here) was probably around 3-5 weeks old. I wonder whether the kitten belongs to anyone. If she does, I will *slaughter* the person for letting such a little kitten to run around just a few houses away from a busy street! Sure, the mother is there (she's a stray with no collar, like my tabby), but the first time I saw the kitten she almost strayed right into the street and the mother was now-where to be seen! Later I saw the two rolling around together. I swear, that kitten should be taken and adopted out to some family to reduce the stray and feral population. I would, *ahem*, gladly take the kitten in. My parents would say otherwise, unfortunately. But 2/3rds of stray kittens don't survive the first year! The odds of little Blackie surviving without a family are so small, I'm tempted to do something! As I've said, Blackie is pure black, but the mother is white and orange. On a funnier note, Kusy was quite frightened of this little black mewing furball. Seriously! I saw the mother and the kitten by the cat man's house, but I don't know whether he owns them or not. They don't have collars, obviously aren't fixed, so I have no clue. I am really tempted to do something to help the kitten's fate. Some driver won't even notice him and crunch over her.... or a coyote will catch her... or an owl.... or she will perish in the freezing nights to come. What should I do?

Also, do you remember the tabby cat I fed two days ago? I still haven't seen him by my house. I saw two cats that may have been him by the cat man's house. I wasn't close enough to see their eyes, though. Both looked suspiciously too fat and clean to be this particular cat.

So what should I do about this kitten? Take her in and keep her? Take her in and advertise a 'Found Kitten?' Let her stay out there and most likely die? I don't know whether the cat man owns her (or the momma cat), but she shouldn't be out there! Should I ask the cat man about the kitten? Help me, please!

I Left You Some Bread, If You're Listening

Remember the cat I blogged about yesterday?

This cat? The one I fed some chicken?

Today at 4 o'clock, I went outside like I had the day before to take a walk. I was home by 4:25, ready to feed the cat when it passed my house on his daily journey. I waited for nearly an hour and a half, keeping time on my camera. I waited, with my hot dog and bread and leftover chicken soup. I waited, for nothing.

The cat didn't come. I started getting worried at around 4:40. Shouldn't the cat be here yet? I kept thinking. I tried to keep up hope, but finally, I knew the cat wouldn't be coming. I knew it when I took in all the people around me, going out the door in the house on the other side of the block, driving home for dinner, biking to a friend's house. I knew, and then I felt this sense of utter disappointment. I don't think I'd realized that I had become quite so attached to this street cat who probably thinks nothing of me.

Maybe he came by my house earlier in the day. Maybe he's stopped coming by for good. No, I don't think he's dead. He couldn't be. I could swear that, as I went for a walk near the cat man's house, I think I saw my tabby cat playing with another lighter, orange kitty. I don't even know whether that cat was the one who I fed yesterday- his eyes looked too dark, but the sun had already set so I couldn't be sure. I felt so disappointed when the cat didn't come by. Nonetheless, I'm determined to try again tomorrow. I even left the bread outside, where I'd left the chicken before. Just in case.

P.S. Three days after the opening of my photo contest and still no one has entered? I thought that with 31 followers, at least someone would have entered it in three days time. Is there a problem? Is the theme too hard to find a picture for? Should I outright cancel the stupid contest if no one's going to enter anyways? 

The Cat Stalker

It all begins about one week ago, when I was returning with Kusy from a walk and saw a small, scruffy, collar-less, orange tabby cat calmly walking down the middle of the sidewalk away from my house. Kusy naturally stiffened and watched intently, and the cat kept walking down the street, across a little intersection. I didn't think much of it and went to my house.

Two days later, I was also returning from a walk with Kusy, when I saw the same orange tabby cross the little intersection, heading towards my house. He stopped to scratch his (as I don't know whether a male or a female, I shall use 'he') claws on a tree, then continued on down the street. He laid down by my next door neighbor's car and watched Kusy and me go home. By now I was intrigued.

Then, two days later, this Monday, I was saying goodbye to my mother as she drove to work when, lo and behold, I saw the same cat yet again, heading the same direction it had the first day I'd seen him. I rushed home, grabbed my point-and-shoot and my flip flops, and rushed to follow the cat- hence the 'cat stalker' part.

I followed him down the street (the cat only looked at me once). The cat then turned down the sidewalk of number 5134. I immediately thought of the cat man, who lived across the alley from the house down which's sidewalk (does that make sense?) the cat had walked. I rushed around the block, and the cat man was sitting in front of his house (as he often does), shirtless, bald and very gray bearded, as always. I crossed the street and walked along, but of course I didn't see the cat anymore. The cat man feeds cats in front of his house. I have seen at least 5 or 6 different cats by his house (maybe more). I don't know whether he owns them- none of the cats wear collars.

By then I was used to seeing the cat exactly every other day, so I didn't expect to see him in front of my house Tuesday. I had walked outside to my front lawn with my brother, setting up the hose to water the lawn. And there was the cat, walking the same direction he had twice earlier. I ran into my house, grabbed my d3000, and followed the cat. He turned into the same sidewalk once again. Some pictures from that day:

Now for today. I had been sort of hoping to see the cat again, and was prepared with my d3000 and a baggie of chicken in my shorts pocket. I took several walks throughout the day, hoping to happen upon him. Around four o'clock (I'd seen him a few times around 4-5 pm) I went for a walk. I walked past the cat man's house. The man wasn't outside (a bunch of cats were, though), but walking down the sidewalk by the house next door was none other than the cat. The cat. I, of course, rushed home, to grab a bottle of water and some small bowls. I set up the bowl of water and some chicken (the cat never found these though) and waited with the rest of the chicken pieces and my camera on my front steps. After a while, I saw the cat heading past my house. I waited until he was close by and slowly walked towards him, bending down. I thew some chicken pieces by him, and retreated to my side door to watch. As soon I turned away, the cat began to eat the chicken! Once he was done with what I had thrown him, I slowly came back and put the rest down, hoping to lead the cat to the little bowls. I once again retreated, this time upstairs to watch from my top roof. The cat ate all the chicken but the ones in bowl! Once he was done, he pooped ( hehe) on my neighbor's front lawn, and walked off towards number 5134. The first picture in the post is from today when he was hiding under my mom's car, watching me put down some chicken.

I am not sure whether or not this cat is a male or a female. I don't know whether someone owns him/her (there's no collar, so I'm leaning towards him being a stray). I don't think he's feral, because he walks around during the day and didn't run off when I approached him. He is a gorgeous cat, though. I wonder what his story is. Imagine tracing back his paw prints to the day he was born, to see exactly what life had in store for him. Was he an abandoned pet? A lost pet? Just a friendly feral? I guess I'll never know.