Day 65, July 22, 2010

Lilly Hinckley is a thin, mostly black rescue cat who belongs to Elizabeth... my ten-year-old daughter. The cat still has feral tendencies, most annoyingly her hauntingly insistent call. It's a cross between a meow and a growl. It can best be identified with the laconic vocal competition between territorial cats on a hot summer's night.

Lilly, no matter what her bravado may be, is not a farm cat, and were she to be, would require months of training. In fact, on the other hand, I think that she might be a reincarnated bovine... based on her behavior the other night.

Elizabeth had her friends, Kate and Kara, over for supper. After the movie, Deb and I offer to walk the red-headed twins home. Elizabeth joins us, and soon after, Lilly follows. She doesn't heel, like my old Black Lab, Chelsea, did, off leash. Instead, she skitters across yards, through shadowy hedges. In the harsh glare of ancient sodium vapor street lights, she boxes in silhouette with local moths.

Of course, I'm terrified. The streets of Noank are narrow and hilly. We've lost three cats to cars in the village. Honestly, our fourth, Lilly Hinckley, seems more street-wise than Pumpkin, Skipper and Rachel ever were.

Back to bovine, and this nonsense and its relevance to farming. This cat followed us for at least a mile. In further support of my argument, she has an affinity for the products of silage, namely maize. About a week ago, we 're finishing supper, on the deck, when Lilly springs onto the table and proceeds to clean my corn cob. The shot's a little fuzzy, but then again, I take these animal pics at great personal risk.

Corny, for sure. Unique? Not sure... I'd never want to compete with funniest pet peeps!