Our feral cats have been with us for five months now. You know that you are in trouble when you start naming them. Some of them have pretty generic names. Big Guy is a big black and white guy. We trapped him and a local organisation had him fixed to prevent the propagation of little Big Guys.
Big Guy's daughter is around. We call her Toby because she reminds me of the black and white dog that I left behind in the north. We have Ginger who is a huge ginger coloured cat. And Gray Face is a punk who is always fighting, full of scratches across his face and he bullies the other cats. We have Sarah, the only one with a decent name. She is fixed.
And then there is Little Girl. She is a runt and scared of her own shadow. The Lovely One and I suspect that she is sickly. When she came to us, her coat was rough, and she coughed up furballs all over, as well as cat food. The Lovely One has been supplementing her food with meat, egg, fish and other treats. She was so afraid, that she spent her entire time in our patio. However, now I see her by the pool when I go for my late-night swim before bed. Her coat is now shiny and she is much more active and assertive. Little Girl's mother shows up occasionally, and when Little Girl tries to cosy up, she gets a swipe up the side of the head.
And that is the interesting thing about cats. They slap each other around with the forepaw. They even threaten other cats by raising their paw. This seems to be a very human trait. Humans slap each other, even in play, and even threaten to slap by raising their hands. We see this trait most often when one kitty attempts to horn in on the food while another one is eating.
As previously mentioned, we are not cat people and resent the fact that feeding the cat was thrust upon us. However Little Girl has gotten under our skin, to the point where the Lovely One talks baby talk to her. She wants to trap Little Girl to take her with us when we leave. I am not so sure about that.