I finally got a picture of the slutty MomCat that keeps having litters of kittens in my shrubberies.

She’s a beautiful little cat, really she is. However, she is the most unfriendly, nasty-tempered cat I’ve ever encountered. She’s really worse than feral, for she hangs out on my deck, drops litters in my holly, steals the CheapoChunks from poor Charley Gordon’s bowl, and if anyone tries to approach her and she can’t run away, she snarls and hisses and arches her back for all the world like a Halloween cat on a fencepost.

She’s not above slashing your hands and arms to ribbons with those long sharp claws, either. Look at her face; she’s obviously nuts. She’s not a good mother, either. She doesn’t take good care of her kittens, she doesn’t keep them clean, she doesn’t teach them to clean themselves or poop in a certain place, and she doesn’t lie down to nurse them. I wish I had a picture of her, standing straight up, with hungry baby kittens hanging off her chest. That’s got to hurt.

Maybe if she’d quit arching her back every time something alive approaches her, one of her problems might be solved. . . . .

Belle and her friends have named her “Hester.”

And just when I thought this younger generation didn’t appreciate classical literature. . . . .