For those of you who are wondering about the calico cat, he lives up in the hills of Fremont, California, a stray that has found a home among the cattle and horses and the people who wander around up there. Being a regular visitor, I occasionally bring a can of cat food for him to enjoy. Some people who keep horses up there have named him "Oreo," though I never thought the name really fit, I call him Oreo as well; he doesn't seem to mind, and hasn't said much about it one way or another.
For a cat that lives in the wild, he is incredibly friendly and gentle, and likes to be petted and scratched. If you sit down on a rock, he will jump into your lap and peacefully purr. He is also a natural hunter who pays close attention to his surroundings, ready to bolt and pounce on birds and lizards. Once, I saw him catch a lizard. He walked up to visit with me, and just as I reached down to pet him, his head snapped around and his attention centered on something I couldn't see, then he suddenly bolted, ran about twenty or so feet and came up with a lizard in his teeth. I was quickly forgotten as he silently disappeared into the underbrush to enjoy his dinner.
Oreo now knows that I'll feed him when I come to visit. The other day he recognized the can of cat food in my pocket and made a half-hearted jump at it just to let me know that he wanted to be fed and not photographed. I could tell that he was getting ready for another jump, but this time he had that look. Interested in self-preservation, I popped open the can and set it on the ground and took a step or two back; he is a wild cat, after all.
The Gray cat belongs to my friend, Kerry.