We have a raggedy old cat who comes around to eat and, come winter, to sleep inside. Her name is Mama. The county spayed her and clipped off a fair sized piece of her ear so when the cat police stop by they will know she’s been fixed. Mama’s nigh on feral. She will sometimes let me stroke her back or scratch her head, but mostly not. Once she fell asleep next to me while I was reading but when I turned the page she took off. I like old Mama Cat. She lets me know I’m no prize, either.