When I pull into the drive after work, I’m usually greeted by cats and birds. The birds provide a great chorus, but the cats carry the message. Feed me, love me, feed me, love me… they croon and demand.
George crosses in front of me as I walk, clearly participating in some bizarre contest to see how many times he can trip me in just 20 feet.
Little Miss rolls over and over in a frenzy of delight.
Topaz stalks with dignity from where he was napping and yowls “feed me” in sharp, urgent tones.
Meanwhile, behind them in the yard, birds gather for their supper: clouds of goldfinches squabble needlessly over ample feeding space at the thistle sock; male cardinals stand guard while their sedate mates dine; chickadees dash in for a quick grab, then steal away with a seed to open; house finches, sparrows, titmice, starlings, blue jays, thrushes and wrens all wait their turn in the shadows of the brush.
I shut the sliding door on the backyard symphony, drop my tote bag and reach for a can of cat food… serenaded by the frenzied impatience of three spoiled cats.