Cathouse(?)

    Question mark is just because I've almost certainly used this subject line before. Although there is some question about the second cat ever getting in here.
    The other tabby cat on the street (who came over to Yow at me the other day when I was trying to get little tabby cat into the cat carrier) belongs to the house next to the house where I think little cat might belong. I had thought that Yow cat might be the little one's mom, but that turns out not to be the case. I'll back up.
    Back in February or so, a fellow knocked on my door to ask if he could use my wireless connection to upload the second half of his novel to Amazon. I explained that I just piggyback on my phone signal and that I didn't think it reaches beyond the walls. Because I was nice about it, he put a copy of the Word files of both halves on my computer. And told me that he lives in the grey house across the street two doors down. I read and liked the novel, but couldn't and still can't figure out how to put a review for a Kindle book I hadn't actually bought.
    Point is that the grey house across Ohio Street two doors down is where the giant tabby cat lives. This morning I went and knocked and was glad to see Robert again, to learn that the cat is Phil who has been neutered since kittenhood, and got even more fur on my pants legs than I get from Amelia. Robert didn't know who the little tabby cat belongs to, either, but noted that he steals Phil's food sometimes. We talked about his novel and writing in general until it was time for me to go pick up Dad for dialysis. It was a good time. I don't know why Phil came to Yow at me about putting the little cat in a carrier. Catese for "FREEDOM!" I suppose.
    Edit: Oh, but the cat house aspect is that the other outside cat was also around. This the apple-headed tuxedo cat that I have wanted for years but who runs away if I get within ten feet. And he was walking away from my porch on three legs, with one front leg in the air, as if my little prospective cat had beat him up to protect the empty food bowl. This makes me sad and slightly amused (assuming the wound isn't permanent) as well. The tuxedo cat did stay on the porch of the guy in the other half of my duplex, and let me get within five feet of him without running away, though he was preparing to. Brian in the other half so far isn't interested in adopting a cute cat, alas.