Feral Cat Turf Wars: Mini Scarey vs. Fatty: Chapter 947


Poor Fatty. She’s the most timid and mild-mannered of all the feral cats. The low cat on the totem pole. So I have to stand guard while she eats her breakfast. To keep her from getting run off by the wild turkeys, or by Mini Scaredy.


Meanwhile, Mini Scaredy showed up while I was feeding Fatty. And she spent a long time sitting there staring at me with an indignant expression on her face. Like: “So!! I see you’ve been seeing other CATS while I was gone!!”

Fatty knows that Mini Scaredy won’t dare to attack her as long as I’m there to protect her (Hero of the Campsite!!).

Fatty spends some face time with me after enjoying a delicious breakfast.

Meanwhile, sneaky little Mini Scaredy thinks she’s gonna sneak around from behind me and attack Fatty from my flank (she fails to grasp the concept of the reversible lens of my cell phone camera!).

Fatty, trying to talk me into staying by her side all day long and never leaving her, so she can enjoy a little peace and quiet for a change.

Fatty spots Mini Scaredy poised for the attack, and realizes the party is almost over. She knows that as soon as I leave, Mini Scaredy will be after her again.

And sure enough, as I soon as I stand up and prepare to leave, Fatty goes running down the hill and running for her life, with Mini Scaredy chasing after he at full gallup. And they both run down the hill, across the creek, and up the next hill, and then disappear in a blink of an eye (cats can sure run like lightening). . .  In truth I think Mini Scaredy isn’t doing it to be mean. She just mostly likes to have fun chasing after things and honing her hunting skills. The thrill of the chase. But it’s no fun for Fatty, that’s for sure. Poor baby.




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.”

Moo Cat gets her ass kicked yet again

Mini Scaredy, undisputed ruler over all that she surveys.

I don’t know if it’s because of all the rain we got this month, or because I accidentally beaned her with a stick the other day, or what. But Mini Scaredy was definitely in an ill-humored mood this morning….. Moo Cat tried to sneak into my campsite to get some breakfast — something Mini Scaredy usually let’s slide. But not this morning. Scaredy immediately went after Moo. To escape Scaredy’s wrath, Moo ran around to the back of my campsite and hid behind my backpack, cowering in fear. While Scaredy stood there about ten feet away, tensed up and ready to pounce on Moo as soon as she made her move.

Moo sat there cowering behind my pack for about 30 seconds, wide-eyed, and assessing her options. Which were severely limited at this point. She’s got her back to the wall, and somehow has to get around Scaredy if she wants to get to safety.

Suddenly Moo makes her move and sprints passed Scaredy. Scaredy turns and chases after her in full sprint. Moo manages to get about 20 yards down the trail when Scaredy catches up to her. Scaredy dives at Moo with her two front legs fully extended and spears Moo in the side with both fists. A very impressive and athletic move by Scaredy — reminded me of one of those nature films where a lion in full sprint lunges at an elk and takes it down. Moo is is knocked sideways by the blow. But she quickly scrambles and regains her balance and runs down the trail with her tail between her legs.

Scaredy saunters back to my campsite with a smug look on her face, like: “I ain’t in the mood to take any shit this morning.” Ha ha.

I fix a plate of food for Moo Cat and walk down the trail to deliver her breakfast in a neutral zone. Moo Cat doesn’t seem hurt by the exchange. Just a little humiliated. Her thick winter coat probably prevented Scaredy’s claws from penetrating to the flesh. 

I guess every now and then Mini Scaredy just feels the need to re-establish the pecking order.

Moo Cat is still upset about Mini Scaredy bullying her earlier in the day. “She ran after me and chased me and hit me with her paws. The big bully.. It was frightening and it hurt my feelings. Can’t you tell that bitch to chill out??” “There there Moo Cat. It’s all right.”

The great Mini Scaredy vs. Moo Cat feud

Still Moo Cat after all these years.


I think the great Mini Scaredy vs. Moo Cat feud is finally beginning to thaw out.

The other night there were no feral cats at my campsite. Usually Mini Scaredy and Scaredy Cat sleep with me all night long. But it had rained during the day. So they were probably holed up somewhere getting shelter from the storm.

So around 4AM Moo Cat dares to show up at my campsite. Usually she’s afraid to get near me when her arch nemesis Mini Scaredy is around. But tonight she’s got the place to herself. So she climbs up on top of my chest and starts meowing repeatedly in my face to wake me up.

“You!” I said.

“Meow!” she said.

I give her a couple of pets and she starts purring loudly. Then she jumps on top of my backpack where I keep the food (hint hint).

I happened to have a leftover rotisserie chicken that I had ground-scored earlier in my backpack. So Moo Cat really scored. “Meat on the bone!!” Her favorite. She immediately started devouring the chicken with gusto.

But then about 5 minutes later, who shows up? Mini Scaredy. The evil one. Moo Cat immediately starts growling fiercely at Mini Scaredy (what a tough guy she is!). But for once Moo Cat holds her ground. She doesn’t run. She continues feasting on the chicken. And for once Mini Scaredy doesn’t run Moo Cat down the hill and up a tree. Instead she trots over and sits on my chest, purring loudly while I pet her.

After Moo Cat is done eating and makes her exit, Mini Scaredy trots over to the chicken and starts chowing down. About 5 minutes later Scaredy Cat shows up (the gangs all here) and takes her turn at the chicken. And pretty soon there’s nothing left of that carcass but bones and gristle.

The fat cats all go to sleep, with smiles on their mugs. Everyone is coexisting. And there’s peace in the valley (“Can’t we all get along?”) And everyone lives happily ever after (except for the chicken). The End.



Yet another weird and odd scene in a seemingly endless expanse of weird and odd scenes

So there I was last night. Hanging out by myself. Minding my own business. Trying to write a story on my cellphone. Way in the back there. In this fairly private and secluded spot. This cul de sac. When these three guys show up. Standing over me. And announce they want to hang out back there with me.


*                               *                                          *

I just had yet another weird and odd scene. In a seemingly endless expanse of weird and odd scenes.

It’s 8pm on a Sunday night. And I’m hanging out at this little nook and cranny on lower Sproul Plaza on the Berkeley campus where there’s an outdoor outlet where I can charge my cellphone and sip my beer and babble on with my latest Facebook post (Telegraph Ave 1982).

When these three high school-age kids, probably about 17-years-old or 18-years-old, and as big as me, are suddenly standing over me.

“Hey is that an outlet? I need to charge my cellphone,” says one of them.

“Yeah it is,” I said. “But don’t charge your cellphone here. I want to be by myself right now.”

“I want to charge my cellphone in that outlet,” he said. “There are two outlets. We can both charge our phones.”

“No. Not here. There are a dozen other outlets right down there,” I said, pointing to the dozen or so other outlets they could use.  ‘I’m trying to write something. I need to concentrate. I don’t want any company.”

“No I want to use that outlet,” he said. He takes out his battery charger.

“No you’re not,” I said

“Yes I am,” he said.

I stood up and gave him a good look at Ace Backwords. “Listen. There are all sorts of outlets right down there by the benches on lower Sproul. Go use those ones.”

“No I wanna use this one.”

“No. Go somewhere else. I’m trying to write. I don’t want people around.”

“We’ll be quiet.”

“No go away.”

“You want me to swing on you?” (so the possibility of physical violence has now been added to the equation).

“No I want you to go away.”

“Dude. Sit down.”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” I said with an extra edge to my voice.

“Sit down.”


“Dude, stop looking at me ”


He averts his eyes for a moment and then says. “I stopped looking at you. But you’re still looking at me.”


One of his toadies says. “Hey you don’t got to make a big drama out of this.” (the dynamic is that there are three of them and only one of me — these punks wouldn’t have been very brave if it was just one on one)

“Listen I’m gonna plug my cellphone in,” he said moving his charger toward the outlet.


“Yes I am.”


So we’re standing there facing off.

But then I realized my cellphone is already 97% charged. And I had finished writing my Facebook post about Telegraph 1982. And I’m almost out of beer. So I’m ready to leave anyways. But it was just a face thing. So I said:

“Oh for crissakes. You can charge your damn cellphone. I’m leaving.”

I pull my charger out of the outlet and start to pack up.

“No you can stay here,” he says. He puts his charger back in his pocket and the three of them start to leave. Which surprised me. I guess it was a face thing with them, too.

So I quickly pack up and head off. But as I pass the three of them — who are still loitering in the general area — I say:

“Hang tough, men ”

“You too, ” they said

I wanted to let them know that every conflict doesn’t have to end in a macho battle to the death. And I have a grudging respect for anyone who is willing to stand up to a monster like me (but they’re usually more stupid than brave).

And they headed back to the outlet to charge their cellphone.

And I headed off to a part of the Universe that didn’t include those three assholes.

So the story had a happy ending for all concerned.

Ha ha.


Feral Cat Turf Wars: Round 7: Scaredy Cat vs. Moo Cat: In the battle for food dish supremacy


Scaredy Cat nursing a scratched eye from Round 6 in her battles with Moo Cat.

 Scaredy Cat has been nursing a scratched eye lately, courtesy of her turf war with Moo Cat.  They’re both fighting it out in a battle for territorial supremacy.
So this morning I was hanging out at my campsite with Scaredy Cat. When I noticed Moo Cat at the bottom of the hill, cautiously inching her way up the trail towards us.

As soon as Scaredy Cat spotted Moo Cat she immediately stiffened and gave Moo Cat the Big Stare, like two gunfighters facing off at the OK Coral.

Suddenly, Scaredy Cat let out a screeching war-cry and tore after Moo Cat in full sprint. Moo Cat let out a “yelp” and turned on her heels and ran for her life. Ha ha. Scaredy Cat chased her all the way down the hill to the creek, and all the way up the next hill before I lost sight of them.

I was surprised. Because I didn’t think Scaredy Cat had it in her. She’s the most gentle and peaceful feral cat I’ve ever known. And she’s much smaller than Moo Cat, too. But apparently she’s had enough of Moo Cat’s shit.

Moo Cat, cautiously reassessing her place in the Universe.

Moo Cat acts tough. But its all a bluff. A Cowardly Lion routine. She’s all bark and no bite. And apparently Scaredy Cat has called her on it.

Its obvious that Scaredy Cat and Moo Cat can’t coexist. One of them has to go. Or get their ass killed. And it looks like its gonna be Moo Cat. Which is a shame. Because they’re my two favorite cats.

Later, Scaredy Cat trotted back to my campsite with a look of triumph on her face. Like, “I sure showed her ass, huh? I’m B-A-A-AD!!”

Ha ha. Cats. I swear to God. Sometimes they act just like people.

Territorial pissing wars





In the ongoing feral cat turf war, I now have the top-of-the-hill cats and the bottom-of-the-hill cats. Last night I camped at the top of the hill. In the morning I fed the top-of-the-hill crew.

Eventually Moo Cat showed up. She trotted half-way up the hill, stopped, and sat there. Waiting for me. It was like there was an invisible borderline that she knew she shouldn’t cross. Moo Cat is part of the bottom-of-the-hill crew.

I packed up my campsite and went down to the bottom of the hill to feed her. Cats. Ha ha. . . Course, men fight wars and kill each other over exactly this kind of stuff.



Scaredy Cat and Moo Cat

Scaredy Cat, completely at home in her world.

This morning I noticed that Scaredy Cat was getting a little, uh, rotund.  She’s either been eating VERY well.  Or she’s preggo.  Sheesh.  How do I get into this stuff.  Well, there’s been so many calamities and traumas at my campsite lately that I haven’t gotten around to contacting FixOurFerals.  And now it might be too late.  Oh well.

Scaredy Cat has gotten incredibly attached to me lately.  A lot of the feral cats have gotten attached to me over the years (daily feedings will do that).  But nothing like with Scaredy Cat.  Every night she’s waiting for me at my campsite.  Then she sleeps with me all night long.  Then she hangs out with me at my campsite right up until the very moment when I finally leave.  All the other feral cats, they’ll usually linger around my campsite for awhile after eating. But then they take off.  Not Scaredy Cat.  She’s more like a loyal little puppy than the typically aloof cat.  She’s by my side the entire time I’m at my campsite.

The ever-disgruntled Moo Cat.

This doesn’t always sit well with Moo Cat.  Who can be very possessive about my attention. It’s funny.  Moo Cat and Scaredy Cat are always vying for the prime sleeping spot at the top of my chest. But if Scaredy Cat beats her to the spot, Moo Cats will lie alongside me. Grumbling loudly the whole time. Ha ha. Cats.


Feral territorial pissing: Starring that grouch Moo Cat

Moo Cat pissed. Can’t understand why other cats aside from her exist on this plane of reality.


The evil one, Moo cat, grumbling and growling as another feral cat dares to enter her domain. . . . I learn a lot from observing my feral cats. They enact the same basic dramas that humans enact. But on a simpler and more basic level. Which makes them a little easier to understand.


Moo Cat, growling. She has such an expressive face, you can see how angry she is. Her attitude is: “It’s Moo Cat’s world, we just live in it.” She always gives me a dirty look whenever I feed the other feral cats. Like: “Why the hell are you doing that? It only encourages them!”