I didn’t realize how difficult it was to be a Mother until I started collecting cats

You mothers that have to deal with a brood of brawling brats? You have my sympathies.

So yesterday morning Fatty was waiting about 20 yards down the trail, for me to bring her her breakfast. So I bring her a plate of food. But she doesn’t get to eat more than a couple bites before her arch-nemesis Mini Scaredy spots her and runs her down the trail and out of my campsite.

So that’s a waste of a can of cat food. Plus no breakfast for Fatty.

So this morning? Same scenario. Fatty waiting down the trail for her breakfast. And Mini Scaredy waiting on my blankets, ready to pounce on Fatty at the first move.

So I have to sneak down the hill from a back exit, circle around the perimeter of my entire campsite. Circle back up to the creek, where Fatty is waiting for me outside Mini Scaredy’s range (and wrath). And feed her her plate of food down there.

You know what they say. “A mother’s work is never done.”

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