The cat behind the sofa

I haven't said much about the cats here at Tyche's Run. I imagine this oversight is because their numbers have grown so large that they have become part of the furniture, practically the air we breathe. There are more than you can shake a stick at. You couldn't swing a cat, if you were so inclined, without hitting...well, a cat. It positively rains cats and...um... cats.... Yes, they have become as common as a bad cliche, and thus hardly worth remarking upon.

You get the idea. I suspect we have more cats than we should.

You may wonder if there is a story behind this large, but unremarkable collection of cats and the answer is, no, not just a story -- there are many stories. But today, I'd like only to remark on one little cat.  One little cat named Tortellini.

Why?

Because Tortellini has come out from behind the sofa.

Let me back up. When the 11-year-old was 10, we bought this farm. Along with the house, the falling down barns, the junk-filled sheds, and the overgrown fields came four equally neglected cats. After some discussion, the 11-year-old dubbed them the Pasta cats -- Ravioli, Risotto, Fettucini and Tortellini. Ravioli and Risotto had been family pets, but the other two were a young mother and son pair of feral cats that someone else had dumped on the previous owners. Tortellini, the mother, was the most feral of the two. Completely unapproachable.

The four cats came inside for the first time in their lives when we arrived, and there they have stayed. Ravioli, Risotto, and even Fettucini, have adapted well to being part of the Tyche's Run managery. It took some time, but they gradually mixed with the other animals and with us. Fettucini began playing with the other youngsters, Risotto began seeking out laps to snooze on, and even the elder Ravioli has never been above enjoying a good ear scratching.  But Tortellini, has always remained apart. The shyest and most feral of the bunch, she has adopted an out of sight, out of mind strategy. She has camped out behind the sofa in the back room. Apart from the occasional glimpse of her tail as it disappeared around corners and under furniture, we have seen little of her.

Until now.

Recently, I have begun catching her out in the open. In the kitchen for goodness sake, during the day for crying out loud, so God and everybody else can see her and remark, "Oh look, here's Tortellini."



Case in point, this morning as I passed through the kitchen in one direction, I spotted Risotto and Rosebud (one of the Groundhog kittens, but that's a different story) curled up together over a hot air vent. I couldn't help but pull out my iphone to snap a picture. (Risotto is the black and white in the back. Rosebud is the fluffy gray one in the front.) But then, two minutes later as I returned through the kitchen going the other way, I found this novel addition, gasp, in plain view, out in the open, in the full light of day:



Yes, Tortellini has definitely come out from behind the sofa.