Almost every lunch time, James and I hang out with the campus cats, whose coming and goings are very entertaining. There is a big orange tom who, with his harem of ladies, lies around like some sort of feline Henry VIII. It is a regular soap opera complete with war, love, deception, redemption, families, and intruders.
The most accurate way to tell that spring has arrived in Jerusalem is by the size of the female campus cats. Most of the year they are pretty thin, but with great flaps of skin hanging below their bellies. Their mommy bellies swing back and forth as they trot down the campus pathways. In contrast, right now, all of the female cats are mini Zeppelins with legs. You seem them waddling about, looking near to busting, or more often, lying in the shade with a look on their face as if to say, "Don't bother me. It is hot, I am fat and I am not moving."
James here is torturing a cat we have called "Preggo" for her astounding breeding capabilities. He is pretending to put stuff in the garbage, fully knowing the wide-load cat is not quite capable of jumping up on to the can.
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