Ricky is Not My Cat. I know his name because when he first turned up he had a lime green collar with a tag that said “Ricky” on one side and “Not your cat” on the other, but I don’t know where he lives or who he belongs to. He seems healthy and well-fed thanks to some poor schmuck who is paying for this cat that spends most of his time at my house demanding cuddles and being generally obsessed with me.

At a distance I originally mistook Tabs for Ricky. She is a tabby and white who’s a bit shy, but brave enough to have come inside several times and has occasionally used my house as a safe place to run when she’s being chased by one of the black cats who seems to be bullying her a little. Cats are not allowed to fight in my house.

Mr Kitty is the largest, most distinguished cat in the neighbourhood. He lives two doors down in my complex and likes to come in and nap on my bed. However, he doesn’t want me to touch him and completely ignores all attempts to make friends. He also ignores Ricky’s attempts to show catitude, politely staring off into the distance whenever Ricky tries to start a fight. I make sure to always greet him with, “Good day, sir.”

Tuxie isn’t around often, and is another cat I occasionally mistake for Ricky when my vision is being weird or he’s standing in shadow. So far he’s yet to enter my house and usually just transits through the garden rather than sticking around.

I believe there are two black cats, one of which is slightly larger and one of which has a small white patch on its upper chest. I could be wrong, though. Either way, both(?) black cats are extremely vocal with a very warbling voice that’s incredibly distinctive and used to be the source of my ongoing “cat or child?” game. At least one of the potentially two cats has come into my house, though mostly following another cat.

The solid grey cat is another one that merely transits through rather than really visiting. The top of this fence is a true cat highway.