We're us to a barely-manageable quantity of cats; four inside cats and one outside. Once you get to the point where you can't glance around the room without your eyes coming to rest on a cat or two, you know you're about full up. But that's okay, mostly. Our inside cats are pretty well-mannered, and our outside cat, Mrs. Underfoot, mostly sits on the porch and dozes.
But last night the dog started growling at the outside cat's eating spot on the porch. I went to the window and looked out and there was a possum standing in the dish, vacuuming up kibble as fast as his pointy little snout could zoom over it. Mrs. Underfoot sat about three feet away, apparently unconcerned. She knows there's always more.
I believe this officially qualifies us for Wild Fuckin' Kingdom status. Well, maybe add a couple of Ursula's parent's yard deer, but that for sure ought to cover it.