For every Duchess, a duke

This is Duchess:


And this is Sammy:


Duchess is the mama cat who spent two-plus summers giving our neighborhood kittens until I trapped her last August and had her put out of the business. Obviously, as she has spent the intervening year sleeping on my chaise and eating my food, I have been forgiven. Perhaps my "misdeed" has not been forgotten however because I still can't pet her.

Duchess is so called because her first companion was already named Duke. This was several years ago when she took up with Duke and, in order to refer to her to her human "mother", I called her Duchess. Duke, I was informed, was neutered, so I suppose that for the majority of the year, they were friends, and for a couple of brief periods, she left him for more fertile company. Duke eventually disappeared; he was an older cat and mainly feral, so he could easily have happened upon a misadventure. And was, no doubt, no match for Duchess's brief liaisons.

But like many humans, men who seek feminine companionship and women who can't seem to be without a man, Duchess needed a buddy. Enter Sammy. He, too, belongs next door, but has decided my patio is a better deal. He'll climb the wooden fence and sit on the window sills and look in. He talks to my indoor cats through the screens. He lets me pet him and practically knocks me over when I'm gardening and he wants attention.

He would seem the perfect male companion: solicitous, easily pawed out of the way over a chicken tidbit, and ever ready to share his sleeping space. And neutered. Did I mention that? He's able to give his entire attention to Duchess. And, to her chagrin, to me.

Duchess has once again shown good taste in companions, but the Duch, she doesn't like to share. This may explain the frequently raised paw when I'm putting her generous portion of free food in front of her. Just a little warning... and then she hip-butts Sammy out of the way.

Heaven only knows what she'd like to do to me.