Blondie was the first feral cat I hooked up with. When I first started camping at my spot in the Berkeley hills way back in 2007. Blondie was already living there in the woods. She was a little kitten at the point — maybe 9 months old at most. Her mother — who looked just like her — had gotten hit and killed by a car. So Blondie was abandoned and fending for herself when I first noticed her. She was living in the bushes up the hill from my campsite. And when I left my campsite in the morning, she’d sneak down to eat the leftover bread that I left for the blue jays that I was feeding. That’s how I first noticed her.
I wasn’t even a “cat person” at the time. I had never even had a cat at that point.
Eventually I started leaving cat food for her, too.. That’s how I ended up getting hooked on feral cats.
I never once touched her or petted her in the 9 years that I knew her. But we were very close. It was beyond the physical.
Only one time in all those 9 years did Blondie ever touch me. I was lying on my back in my sleeping bag one morning. And for whatever reason Blondie decided to climb on top of me and sit on me. And she sat on top of me for about 5 minutes. Like she was thinking: “Ya know. I always wanted to do this.”
And then she climbed down from me. And never did it again. Ha ha. Cats