About 6 weeks ago (today is 5/2/16), I heard loud crying at my back door. Opening the door, a young, muted tabby boy, though I didn't know his sex at the time, tried to waltz on in.
Unfortunately, my 4 resident felines would have caused quite a riot. Not to mention the 2 big dogs.
So, I grabbed a carrier, went outside and managed to stuff him in, all the while he kept trying to slip past the door. Talk about determination.
Once in my car, I called my vet to give them a heads up that I was on my way with (another) stray. He's the 3rd kitty to show up in my back yard.
I left him at my wonderful vet's to be checked over, tested for disease, and spayed or neutered whichever was appropriate.
When he came home the next day, my husband rolled his eyes at yet *another* mouth to feed. But didn't say a word. Smart man.
Bobby aka Bobowitz, is quite the boy, impish and into everything, so he got a real boy name. He has appointed himself my assistant chef, housekeeper, laundress, dog washer, and chief inspector of everything I bring home.
Bobby is the first cat I've had, and to date I've had 14, with a mohawk. The fur on the top of his head grows toward the middle, and sticks straight up, making the mohawk.