For the last few weeks, a new friend has been visiting the acreage. Lately the big, fluffy, gray and white cat has been here nearly every day. It comes and goes, but it’s obvious my yard is part of its territory. I’ll see it at any time of the day, walking from the old oak toward the garden, or meandering through the side yard, or slinking behind the structures in the back. Sometimes I’ll drive up and see it scamper across the driveway to safety.

This cat is a behemoth. It’s as big as a beaver or a koala (or as big as I imagine those creatures to be). It seems to solidly built, but it’s a little hard to tell with all that fur. It seems well-groomed enough to be somebody’s indoor cat, and at times it will sit on my back porch as if it thought it had the right to come in and sit by the fire or lap milk from a saucer.

Even if I were inclined to invite it in, I don’t think I’d want to contend with that much cat hair. I’ve been that route in a past life, and I can tell you that you never get all the hair out of the carpet or from behind the furniture, no matter how good a housekeeper you are. And we all know that’s not one of my strengths, this business of cleaning.

I think this cat is going to be good for my yard. Several times I’ve seen it stalking something either on or under the ground. It’s hard to see because of the high, thick grass, and when it pounces it doesn’t come up with anything, but I’m hopeful. I know there are rats and gophers out there. I’ve seen the evidence. I just hope the cat isn’t stalking its own shadow. At least it seems to be leaving the birds alone.

It might be a while before I get a photograph of the big gray cat. It seems even more skittish than the cream-colored cat that died in my planter box last year. It takes off as soon as it sees that I’m watching. That’s probably not a bad policy for either of us, but I wouldn’t mind a picture for the scrapbook, especially while it’s still alive.