Winter’s gray skies and wet ground have even gotten to RK. After his morning release from his dry place in the garage and his morning feeding, he goes to his watch-cat position on the front porch. A rug draped across a chair is his, he thinks, and he sits either on it or under it for part of the day. He looks depressed and lethargic and I wonder if he’s thinking, “Will spring never come?”
The snow was a temporary diversion, but his morning run ended when the cat’s feet got cold. Birds on the feeder above him seem to generate little interest. So far, the birds haven’t been objects to prey upon. The morning birdcall from one out in the trees causes him to perk up-sit up, but not for long. Squirrels have become a little wary since the appearance of the cat that killed a rat just a little smaller than them.
Old Fritz, the Mafia cat, still swings by now and then but goes away when RK ignores him and refuses to run up a tree. It’s as if the Manx, tired of the game, has nothing but scorn for the old guy who has been totally rebuffed by “his” woman down the road. He still comes all the two-mile distance in hopes of getting a scrap or two of the store bought brand of food he likes. It’s like RK is thinking, “It was fun at first when the old gray crooked tail cat came by, but now he’s just boring, boring, boring!”
According to one online resource, the Manx is a very playful cat as a rule. They can jump higher than anyone can imagine, and it is not unusual to find them perched on the highest point in any room. They have extremely powerful hindquarters. It has been stated by one Manx owner that “Manx are the feline sports cars of the cat world with their acceleration and quick turns.” It goes on to say that keeping such a rare treasure indoors, neutering or spaying and providing acceptable surfaces for the natural behavior of scratching are essential elements for maintaining a healthy, long and joyful life.
My uneducated take on this creature that forged his way over hill and dale to land exhausted on my doorstep is that he is a creature of the wild. He roams at night if I fail to put him inside. He is a hunter and sometimes suffers the repercussions of tangling with an adversary bigger than he is. A coyote could probably do him in if coyotes could climb trees. He sits and watches when the weather is dark and dreary but comes alive again when the sun comes out. Small creatures like mice and moles are toys for RK to play with and he tosses them up into the air catching them over and over again until they give up running and die.

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