The neighborhood is abuzz about the new cat down the street. Buster. A big gray guy, wide in the middle, with a skinny short tail and muscles. You see him saunter down the street and you think: If Joey Buttafuoco were a cat he'd walk just like that.
Apparently Buster is quite a mouser, something we've needed here in Squirreltown. Just to give you a feeling for the squirrel problem, they ate all my tomatoes for that two years, and in the world according to Google, squirrels don't eat tomatoes.
Not being gardeners, no one else really cared except for the neighbor who hates the nests in the trees.
But I cared. And now Buster cares. For the first time in 3 years I've had tomatoes ripen unmolested on the vine. Sorry squirrels.
And sorry to the neighbors who own the house across the street where Buster deposits his kill. For some reason Buster leaves the bodies on the front porch right in front of their door. These squeemish people feel a total aversion to nature and it's causing quite a controversy. Frankly, I'd be glad to shovel the dead for them, but they are too proud to ask for help. Maybe they will accept a gift of tomatoes.
Note: Get the update on Buster here: