The Pony and I pulled T-Hoe up to the mailbox this afternoon. And saw a cat in the roadside weeds. A pretty little white cat with a saddle-like splotch of gray stripes on her back. I say "her," thought I did not get so up close and personal to ascertain her gender. But the way things go around here, she was most likely a female. She wound through The Pony's legs while he loaded up on mail. Followed him to the car door.
"I don't want to leave her. Look at her big eyes! She is SO thin..."
"We have five cats. If we could get rid of the three that don't like us, we could have this one. But I don't foresee that happening in the next five minutes. You can ask your dad. The worst he can do is say no. But remember that the cats we already have are not going to like her. The dogs won't, either. It might be safer for her here at the mailboxes."
"I know. But I hate to leave her here."
"In the morning, you can bring a cup of food and dump it out for her."
As far as I know, The Pony did not ask Farmer H to adopt another cat. I don't want to bring it up. It will make him sad. Especially after finding that the lone chick he and Farmer H tried to save last night had expired during the day. No matter how you try to protect a day-old chick from harm, it just can't survive without a mom, even in an elevated cage with food and water and straw. At least the proposed adoptive family did not peck it to death, as they attempted during their short introduction.
One person can't save the world. Or even every stray cat in the neighborhood.