A cat stuck her head in my coffee this morning.
It was a little past ten o’clock. I fixed myself a mug of coffee, picked up my Rubik’s Cube, and went to sit outside and enjoy my coffee on a glorious Saturday morning.
As I sat outside, I scrambled my Rubik’s Cube and proceeded to solve it. (Using an “edge’s first” method, for the record.) My coffee sat beside me on the concrete, and from time to time I reached down, picked it up, and took a swallow.
One of the feral cats that lives in the complex — a tuxedo cat, not very old, and very scrawny — came out of the bushes, walked along the wall directly at me, and ducked under my chair.
The next thing I know, she has her face in my coffee mug!
“Coffee is not for kitties!” I exclaimed. I reached down, picked up my coffee mug, and the cat didn’t go anywhere.
We’re not supposed to feed the feral cats, but she clearly was in need of sustenance, so I went inside to the kitchen, got a dish and some milk… and when I turned around she was standing just inside my door (which I had left open). She ran back out as I approached, and I put the dish on the concrete, far enough away from my chair that she wouldn’t likely feel threatened by me while I drank my coffee and fiddled more with the Rubik’s Cube.
Of course, I spilled milk all over the concrete. And the spilled milk was what she went for first. Only when she’d cleaned that up did she go for the dish.
![Tuxedo cat drinking milk from a bowl set outside](http://www.allyngibson.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/20220910_101006.jpg)
After a few minutes, she decided she was done and she went back whence she came.
Ten minutes later, she decided she wasn’t done, because she came back for what was left.
![Tuxedo cat drinking milk from a dish outside my apartment](http://www.allyngibson.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/20220910_102609.jpg)
The way she stood this time I could reach out and touch her easily, and she didn’t flinch when I did.
For a cat that lives outdoors, she was very soft.
By this point, I had finished my coffee, so after moving the dish, I went inside and made more coffee.
When I returned, she’d made herself at home in my chair.
![](http://www.allyngibson.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/20220910_104355.jpg)
She’s very friendly. I was able to pet her more, and she appears to have nursed a litter recently.
She moved on eventually, though she was lurking near the apartment in the evening.
In the afternoon, I went to explore a Lutheran church cemetery in Adams County, just across the border from York County in Abbottstown where family six and seven generations back are buried.
Before I left, I noticed that the odometer on my Beetle has passed 200,000 miles.
![My Beetle's dashboard, showing a speed of 8 mph, an empty tank, 0 RPMs, and 200,896 miles.](http://www.allyngibson.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/09/20220910_124312.jpg)
It must have happened three weeks ago. I didn’t notice.
No, I did not take this photo when the car was moving. Yes, the speedometer says I was travelling eight miles an hour. But the speedometer reads that when I’m in park. It’s off by eight miles. So when I have the speedometer at 80, I’m really travelling about 72.
No one told me there would be math when I’m driving.