I heard a clattering in the dining area and went to investigate. It’s like modern art. I had to take a picture before dismantling it.
Solo looking innocent. She actually is scratchable on her underside for an undetermined number of scratches, but you can never predict the magic number.
Psalm.
Psalm is just adorable! How is Rascal doing?
Rascal is doing better.
Yes, Psalm is adorable. She’s aware of that, too. 
Mary likes to sit at the low window with her forepaws on the sill and watch the world go by. She is a character. Still the wildest of them all, untouchable part of the time. But every now and then, she decides she wants to be petted, jumps up in my lap, gets a few strokes for just a minute, then leaves. And at night, I wake up now and then with her licking my arm. She won’t do that in the daytime, afraid she’ll get caught being affectionate, I guess. Have to have the cover of darkness, but I know them by feel. Also, everybody else has at least some white in places that catches the security light other than Mystery and Pharaoh, and Mystery is all floof, and Pharaoh is angular and has his collar. You could never mistake those two for each other or anybody else, even if it were totally dark. But Mary hides her affectionate moments. I do love the independent ones.
I started out the day today dropping a container of salmon. That was allegedly my breakfast, but a volunteer janitorial crew was promptly on duty, of course. Sorry for the blur; this was most definitely an action shot, with a few growls thrown in for sound effects.
And here, yesterday morning, is Cotton in the pasture waiting at a respectful distance for me to finish interacting with the horse. Toccata is an Arab/Mustang cross, looks full Arab, classic fleabit gray. He has the Arab quick reactions, not mean at all but has a great spook on him and can be a bit abrupt for feline tastes. The cats are most respectful of those hooves.
Mary, interior decorator consultant. I really preferred my arrangement of the fridge to hers. She does have the largest ears of these three orphans. Also the longest legs; she’s on stilts. Really quite an elegant and sleek-looking lady.
Cotton and Bagheera with a rose that is planted on the western side of my house. This is not the rose I adopted from my nursing home friend. That one is in front of the porch.
I liked this shot, both of them lying there next to it nose to nose like they were having a discussion over coffee. Both of them look in character here, too. Bagheera is a normal-sized cat, but he is incredibly sleek and deep, glossy black. He has one of the prettiest coats I’ve ever seen, unless he has been rolling in dust, which he likes to do. Gorgeous eyes. He is one tightly packed body of muscle, a perfect yard panther. Cotton, on the other hand, is a large cat, but he is less tightly packed and less intense than Bagheera. He is always soft, stretchy, and comfortable.
From top left, Psalm, Solo, and Brio assist me in clipping my claws. They think that me clipping my claws is so much more fun than me clipping their claws.
Cotton with my friend’s rose this morning. That rose is so happy at my farm. (Yes, I know the grass needs cutting.)
An evening portrait with several. From left, Cory, Satin, Bagheera, Rascal at top of stairs, Cotton. I believe Atticus is in the horizontal window behind the blinds. Probably some inside looking out the low window, too, but can’t see well enough to pick them out.
And The Rose.
Written late last night:
The battle of the sinks.
Mary has recently moved into the other sink in my bathroom. That is her bed.
Tonight, I arrived for bedtime routine, and she was already in the bathroom but in my sink. Not the other sink. My sink.
Of course, I could have changed sinks, but as mentioned, I like patterns. She was the one disrupting procedures. She knows I use that sink nightly; she watches me do so. Also, she was smirking. Yes, cats can smirk. Tenuto was quite talented at it. No, this wasn’t just trying out variety; Mary was deliberately testing if I had a limit to tolerance.
I do, Mary. Also, in spite of feline opinions to the contrary, this is my house. I make the payments on it. That’s also my sink; in fact, both of them are. This is also my water from my well.
Mary gave up my sink and switched with alacrity. Now bedtime routines are completed at my sink, and Mary is bedded down in the other sink.
Good night, world.
I’m sitting in the office at my desk. Pharaoh is curled up peacefully in repose on the blanket on top of the printer cart just next to the desk. Beyond the printer cart is the 8-foot cat tree, and Brio just rocketed into the office, ascended the cat tree, and jumped across from the top of the cat tree to the top of the desk hutch, total elapsed time about 3 seconds. As he did, in the force of his gallop, he dislodged some fur, and a large tuft came wafting down and settled squarely on top of Pharaoh. Pharaoh studied it, then looked up at Brio’s flight path and all but rolled his eyes. The thought bubble was clear. Kittens!
Purrfectly timed shot this morning. Psalm was in transit; I missed the entrance (mostly, though note the tail). However, the head popping out on the other side was perfect.
Psalm in the library. I do have a cross-stitch kit of a cat with books that will go in the spot just above her head. I have enough craft kits in my cabinet to keep me crafting for years, but many of them do have a plan and spots reserved. Love my library. Purr.
And lazy afternoon on the porch. Cory, Satin, Rascal, and Bagheera.
Portrait of Solo.
This cat from the beginning has reminded me of Mom. Sweet in her way but a very strong character (understatement) with abundant spunk and a touch of sass. It took me a little while to figure out why this one appealed to me on the TNR website when I first saw her back in 2017. I was there innocently, looking up something on the computer for an aide client, and she grabbed me. Which is odd for me; I have a lot of “cute cat!” reactions, but it is very odd to see one that I seriously do feel tempted to go check out. It became obvious after a while, though. She reminds me of Mom. If Mom were a cat, this is what you’d wind up with.
She looks a bit fed up in that photo. 
Is that her usual expression?
It’s a frequent expression for her. In this particular case, I was sitting on the couch eating. She was watching me. She knows good and well that she is not allowed to swarm up into my plate, and that food in my possession is mine, period, amen. See the Second Feline Household Commandment. However, while obeying the commandment, she still considers it unfair and does provide editorial comment.
It just occurred to me that my three feral orphans are roughly a year old now. Their birthday is unknown, but we figure probably beginning of September.
They have come a long way from those scrawny little mites. All healthy cats. Brio is going to be a very large cat. He still runs on about 12 cylinders and reminds me of Teddy Roosevelt. His life philosophy is “wheeee!!!”
Psalm is a neat personality. She’s got a sense of humor, reminds me a bit of Tenuto in that. She is playful and snuggly in turn, whichever mood strikes her at the time. I still love her light/dark face.
And then there is Mary. Mary, so named for the Bible verse that “Mary kept these things and pondered them in her heart,” remains a thinker. She is probably in my top 10 lifetime for memorable feline personality, and I’ve known well over a hundred cats between me and Mom. Mary also has a sense of humor, though more subtle than Psalm’s. She is untouchable 85% of the time. Definitely not a lap cat or a snuggler, but when the mood strikes her, she is affectionate for a few minutes. But always thinking, always watching, really extremely interactive with me in spite of her standoffishness. I can appreciate that personality, but it would drive a lot of people nuts. She is definitely not the cat for somebody who just wanted a nice purring, snuggly pet.
Of course, the original plan was to get these wild orphans tamed, healthy, launched on the road to cathood, and then find them permanent homes elsewhere. Yeah, that worked.
I liked this pose by Rascal tonight.
The mat, of course, is a sharpening pad. I straighten it many times a day. They move it again many times a day. I haven’t given up straightening it, but I have stopped being annoyed when it’s crooked. Sometimes, even painfully organized folks can manage to file something under “this isn’t a big deal.”
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