It has been said by those who know felines, that cats choose us rather than we humans choosing them. It was in this manner that Taillefer (pronounced "tie-yuh-fair") chose us for his new parents. Tai did not appear on our balcony singing the Song of Roland as did his namesake, Taillefer, the Norman minstral of the Battle of Hastings (See "1066 and All That" for details.) but did a pretty good rendition of "The Gang's All Here" in a distinctive Siamese yowl about two AM. Our threesome joined in the concert through the screen. When this concert continued, I got up to have a look and saw a strange black kitten, nine to twelve months of age, singing with our feline crew. Unusual? Only if one considers that we are not on a ground floor and that there is no way up the steep side of the building to that balcony. No tree. No drainpipe. No projections. No obvious way up to where he was standing. And yet there he was. When I blinked, Tai had vanished. Later, Tai was back. This visiting every few hours continued for days.

Eventually, Tai let me examine him and, except for being thin and having thickened and abraided paws, he seemed healthy enough. Into the cat carrier he went without a struggle and off to the animal hospital for tests and shots. We collected Tai the next day with clipped nails and clean ears and no longer a tommy. (Neutering is cool; intact is tacky.)

P. S.

UPDATE

P.S.
In October 2005, we sustained horrible property damage from Hurricane Wilma in Florida. We lost our home and three of our cats are gone forever. Tai, Pewter, and a large collie named Orry, now live with their humans in rural Georgia.

The cats' pet