In a rather odd turn of events it appears we now have a cat. Or really, the cat sort of adopted us.
I call it the neighborhood tramp cat, but Ryan hates that term, so now I refer to it as the beautiful hobo cat. Everybody in our neighborhood knows this cat. We've all fed and pet her. She's somewhat small with black and white satin-like fur.
We have found the owner and Ryan has talked with her about the situation and there's a good possibility the cat will officially become his.
The other night I opened the door to see if she was waiting to come inside. I start calling quietly for her and then see movement in our neighbor's front yard. The kitty likes to sit in the bushes over there and scout for birds so I slowly take a couple steps from the door calling to her.
I see the black and white and then I realize: That's. Not. The. Cat.
It's a skunk.
Needless to say I quickly went back inside and told my hubby to come look but he wasn't interested.
I talked to my neighbor the next day about the smelly creatures and she told me that there are actually 2 that keep coming to the house and eating the bird and squirrel food they leave out. I'm pretty sure the skunks are also what has been digging up the flower bulbs I planted.
Dear Mr. Pep é Le Pew (and friend) -- stop eating my daffodils and tulips!