Wandering Animals, Mostly CATS!

Our summer in France has meant the introduction of some 8 not-so-feral and feral cats.  We name them all, Mouse-Lissa (called "Melissa by my Duck), LongTail, Felix the 1st, Felix the 2nd (twin black and whites), Corruption, Katy, Mauve, Aix and Nine...yes, we feed them, the cheapest damned kibble we can find...they nibble it and most go away but some...Mauve for instance, sticks close to the kitchens (we have 2 kitchens) hoping against hope a morsel or ten will pop into a suitable container for her enjoyment.  We started off this spring with just one or two, Melissa and then a bit later LongTail.  When the end of July came about we saw the kittens, Felixes the are, and then the others were added over the next week or so.  It's summer, it's Aout...August the minions of the concrete office towers in Paris are OFF to the beach! and others, our local folks just go without their sweet animals, yes, they leave them to their own devices, so we are that device locally. Terrible behavior on the part of these normally very sane, very upright and conservative French citizens...alas for this one flaw. What to do with the cats?  A large bowl of food, I've seen this, lies empty by the door of the village house, quite empty...I KNOW where they are!  A domesticated cat is NOT a feral cat, it has tools, some quite sharp...but no street smarts and you need street smarts if you are to survive in the wilds of Lignieres.  The sleep in our courtyard, hide in the bushes, in the barn (it's big enough!) and on the roof by Kelly's sewing room and in the bathroom window while we are showering.  Cats everywhere!  It's now the 12th of Aout (August remember?) and we have perhaps another 14 - 21 days before their Big Kats (people) return.  Enough time to die in the street after being run over by a slightly inebriated Big Kat in his Peugeot, then summarily flattened by the Case or John Deere farm tractor hauling a 10 ton load of wheat to the mill down the street.  Denying death by a near miss or a swift kick that breaks bones and causes internal injuries is part of the melee awaiting these wandering animals, just like dogs...only, so often, people TAKE their dogs with them, so few feral dogs are about.  Many more cats make up for the lack.   
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Fly On The Camembert

Into Kelly's Kitchen I walk seeking my fist coffee of this stranger than strange morning...awake at what?! 11:45? AM?! What?! Yes, I found myself alive and kicking...well...stretching at 11:45 in the bloody morning!  Not a good night last night I guess.  The neighbor racing some high horsepower moto at 4am and before that awake to Furry incessant cries of extreme distress...the food bowl was unmounded...again!  Ahhh back to sleep and now awake at 11:45. Alas.  So to the coffee machine to hear the lovely grinding sounds and the smell of rich, ground french roast...ahhhh.  Then, in the corner of my eye I spy an anomaly, the Camembert we bought yesterday after much study is sitting on top of the microwave. It is still in it's traditional wood box container.  Sitting at the edge where the lid meets the bottom with the delicious (we hope, it was expensive enough...though what that means HERE in "Cheeseland" is probably inconsequential.  One doesn't, at times, get what you pay for) Camembert mini-loaf wrapped inside.  Quite a well constructed sentence if a bit long winded for the purpose.  Anyway, at that juncture sits a lone house fly (Musca domestica, of the suborder Cyclorrhapha), wings neatly tucked to it's body and unmoving.  I look closer...no motion.  A dead fly?  Hmmm.  Taking no chances with this interloper to a otherwise pristine and bucolic scene, I grab the ever handy fly swatter.  I aim...then, my "Rule No. 1" comes into my still waking mind...no!  So I put the fly swatter back and reach gently down to the Camembert box and as I do the ever aware fly scoots away then takes to the air. Damn!  Ok, so I didn't want to kill him, just move him outside so he can go do fly work somewhere else.  He lands again, maybe he's a she...I don't know...and I reach around and gently pluck the box from the microwave and step towards the door, the fly still sitting on the box excitedly moving it's wings.  I look again at the fly as I open the door.  It looks back.  Shit, I've been found out.  So I say (I often talk to my fly friends when I "remove" them to elsewhere, telling them gently what I'm doing is for their own good as the Other Human in our household is somewhat more direct with HER position as to the basic worth of a house fly in HER kitchen environment, or any other environment for that matter.  The swatter is only one tool she might use, I remind him.  Door open...Camembert box now on the window ledge for fly is still enchanted with the contents I suppose, and refuses to leave the second he/she is outdoors.  So I close the door and renew my activity with the blessed coffee apparatus.  Cup filled twice...as it is an espresso machine and each amount is less than adequate for my caffeine needs THIS morning or any other.  Go to the sitting room and spy the Camembert box through the window, fly STILL there.  On to other things.  Move the ladder away from the hallway and position it so the damned cat will have a safe way to the top, last week she managed to topple it over front wise and while it didn't break the glass window it struck as my head was a bumper, I don't want it to happen again that way.  Shit!  The FLY HAS LEFT THE BOX!  Run to the kitchen, open the door, grab the box from the ledge and close the door behind me.
I place the box back on top of the microwave.  I wander upstairs for a look at the Olympics...it's 11:30 now, Kelly is still fast asleep.  Must of had a bad night too.  Furry is curled up on the chair, again fast asleep.  Such is Life here in the Heart of France.
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Then the Sardines w/lemon and olive oil w/red beans and rice.  A total WIN for me and a totally awful loss for Kelly.  She just couldn't STAND the damned sardines, "too strong" she uttered as she picked at her plate and this person LOVES fish.  The equally prepared Mackerel received the same welcome...not at all, she tried, I give her that but it was a bad meal for her last night while I licked my lips in delight.  Goes to show, people vary.  She loves those damned dried cuttlefish and shrimp things Asian that I won't touch.  I wound up apologizing for the mistake in understanding.  I made a sandwich of the remaining fine sardines (they were gutted, deboned and butterfied, then grilled in the cast iron grill pan, a handy kitchen tool!) with onions, japaleno peper strips, tomato and strong mustard for lunch.  Delicious!  I made Kelly a Cherizo Sandwich with Gouda cheese, tomato and onion which she relished.
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The afternoons activities have been applying ourselves to the two remaining walls to be covered with cloth in the parlor.  It IS a process, huge pieces of cloth folded over heavy paper guides then stapled with stainless steel staples into place.  Hard work lifting yards and yards of cloth and hanging it without wrinkles or folds or pleats.  The results are though, quite beautiful and unique.
Love to you and yours!