October 5, 2015
She was there the day we moved into our house in Bicester, England. Sitting on the front porch like she owned the place. When we opened the door to our new house, she just walked in. She was cute, but she wasn’t ours. She was black with a white bib, and a white dot on her belly. The white dot led to her name–Domino.
We soon learned that she belonged to our neighbor. Domino was no kitten when we met her; she was three years old. The previous owner had allowed her to use the house as a refuge from her brother, Oscar. The two cats did not get along, and Oscar was the dominant feline. Our home had a cat flap on the back door, and Domino was accustomed to coming and going as she pleased. Initially we resisted. We kept the cat flap closed. We didn’t feed her. We didn’t want our new neighbors to think we were trying to “steal” a cat. Even so, she spent a great deal of time at our home. Continue reading