Bazel, Not-Bazel, and A Thing that goes HISS in the Night

This is Bazel. I always think of him as Stuart Little in a cat body. He is sweet as sugar and white as snow.

This is Not Bazel. We call him Frog, as in Bullfrog, as in the horrible sound he makes that I think is supposed to be a meow. This guy kept getting brought to us when we put up posters for Bazel. Alex finally kept him inside when he got 60 phone calls and this same cat brought to our door twice in one hour. And he had a hard time convincing people that he wasn't trying to not give out the reward. He doesn't really know what to think of the dogs, but he has warmed up to Bear (though she still gives him a LOOK when he lays down too close). No one is looking for him.

This is Bazel. We miss him very much and are still looking for him at the shelter. We had hoped he was the kitty eating food off the porch for the last couple weeks. It started when I saw kitty paw prints in the snow on the porch one morning. We slept with the door open the next night and woke to kitty kibble eating, but made too much noise rolling over on the airbed to get a glimpse. The next night Alex put the food in a cup with a loop of duct tape inside to see if kitty had white fur. There was some white looking fur on the tape in the morning. I've locked the kids all up in the bedroom with me every night for nigh on two weeks in an attempt to lure the kitty further inside. I had kitty eating food almost two feet inside the door.

The scientist in me had deduced from nightime ramblings that if kitty was eating food at the same time every night, it was before 3am and after 1am (between 1:16 and 3:18 to be precise). At 1:21 this morning we awoke from a stuper to some horrendous noises in the living room. Alex vaulted out of bed and asked where the light switch was in the hallway. I told him, he ignored me, and he proceeded to run into a myriad of obstacles. By which point I too had exited the bedroom and deduced that it must be Frog singing because Bear was on the bed and the dogs weren't yelping in claw inflicted pain. Sure enough, Frog was singing to the porch kitty. Talk about an attack cat; he sure fits in with the dogs. Alas, kitty is a fluffy siamese looking thing, not my Beloved Bazel.