Spotted in the paddock . . .

I was just idly looking out of the window across the paddock when I saw Ban sat in the grass.  I called her name.  She ignored me.  I called louder.  I tapped on the glass. Still no response, so I began to drop the sash window, and at the noise she looked at me, and I saw it WASN'T Ban at all, but a tabby with a white bib - just like our late much lamented Timmy, who died about 8 or so years back now.

I went outside and stood by the apple tree at the edge of the paddock.  The stranger looked at me and sank lower in the grass, and lower . . .  I came inside and left him to it - I presume it's a tom, they usually are at this time of year, looking for a territory of their own.

D, who claims to have noticed him first, wants to call him Snarf (from Thundercats).  I have banned him from doing so! Timmy2 (my choice) will probably move on anyway, especially when Tom, the resident stray tom cat who "thinks" we feed him (he is mistaken - we feed Miffy and Amber) will knock 7 bells out of him, I don't doubt, as he does that with any cat he meets.  He is close to being trapped, neutered and rehomed somewhere else . . . 

I have never lived anywhere where so many stray cats turn up in my garden. Like my good friend in America (Morning's Minion), I am sure they are drawn as if by magnet - though in her case they are actively DUMPED).