Three male cat adversaries sat on my porch and waited out the rain. Ringo, the cat beneath the chair and old Church, the gray cat sitting up are now step brothers and they get along okay, but add the stray
cat, ‘Gray’, (the one with the white feet) who wanders over from time to time and you have a stick of dynamite that explodes when cat testosterone and tempers get hot.
   But this afternoon, the noisy rain fell hard trapping all three in one place. All of them relaxed and used their time cat napping. Gray is very skittish and one day soon I will catch him and take him to the Humane Society, he’s hard to pin down at this point, but he needs to go to a place where they can put him up for adoption, he deserves a home, and needs to obviously be fixed. 
   After the rain stopped by late afternoon, Gray left. I grabbed my fishing pole and headed for the lake. Church and Ringo braved the wet grass and followed me down.  The cranes never showed up, but the heron was on the marsh and at one point he flew over, but upon seeing the cats, he flew right back. Ringo has no hesitation about going after the heron even though the heron is as big as the cranes. But the cats will not fool around with the cranes as those big birds will attack the cats, especially when they have their baby with them.  the papa crane is especially assertive.
   Fishing was bad, but the water had risen several inches! My cats remained in position until they heard the tackle box close which is the signal that it’s time to go in and eat. The three of us walked back to the porch and when I slid the door open,  the hierarchy resumes, first in is Old Church, Ringo’s next. then me.  I know my place and cherish it.

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