Peggy isn't the prettiest cat. She's a homely type of cute with the personality of a pickle. In other words, she's a cat's cat and doesn't like people.
Other than her eerie resemblance to my cousin, Peggy, hence the name, the grouchy calico didn't stand out. At least not the way her nosy brother Clyde, also a people hater, stood out. I didn't even want to trap him and one day I caught him three times. Needless to say, Clyde was a real character.
It's weird having unfriendly friends. Peggy has been my unfriendly friend for over five years now. She comes when I call her, so she knows her name. She will come up on the porch with me at feeding time. But if I make a noise or move fast, she darts out of arm's reach. When I'm filling the food dishes, she will crouch at little distance, maybe foot or two away, to watch me. Occasionally, I'll trick her. I'll be petting one of the others and Peg will start to eat. Then I'll carefully move a hand over and touch Peggy's back. This always freaks Peggy out and she'll be extremely wary for a while.
Peggy's wild and that's okay. Her cautious nature is probably why she's survived as a feral for so long. And though she's an unfriendly friend, she occasionally makes a gesture. She gazes up me with adoring eyes to show me I'm not as bad as some of those other awful human things. And just this morning, she spoke to me.
She was sitting in the bushes a couple feet away from me. I said, "Hi, Peg." She turned towards me and moved her mouth. I stepped a little closer and spoke to her again. She softly meowed at me. We spoke back and forth for a couple more minutes before I went in the house. Most likely, neither of us had a clue what the other was saying. But it didn't matter because that's about as good as it gets with an unfriendly friend.
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