Diary of My Country Life-September 4th, 2026

09/04/2026 Friday 73-86F Cloudy 

There used to be five cats which came to our property often: A white one, an orange one, a white-orange one, a little tabby, and a black one. But gradually, since last year, the white one and the orange one seemed to have taken over our place, sometimes several times a day. At the early stage of seeing these cats, I naively wished they would catch, or at least chase, the resident groundhog that lives in the neighbor’s backyard away from my garden as cats prey on rodents by nature; I even imagined that all the five cats teamed up to set a trap for the groundhog like in a cop movie: One guarded at the fence; one hid behind the post; one purposely chased the groundhog toward a direction where another cat was waiting.  

However, I wasn’t sure whether they somehow encountered each other or not; both parties kept showing up in turn without carrying any scars or wounds, and the groundhog overgrew the cats in size. If the groundhog had to fight hard, one or two cats would be no match for it; but if three or four or more cats worked together in a gang fight, no doubt they still could beat it. This imagined war appeared in my head every time I found my tomatoes scattered on the ground damaged by the groundhog. But all these visitors are peacemakers: The cats are well-fed therefore they have no reason to fight against hunger; if just for fun, perhaps they would rather kill a bird than taking serious risk to challenge a much bigger opponent. And though the groundhog acts like a bandit when it is alone, it is smart enough to run away from any potential harm. So, I am the only injured one—I keep losing my tomatoes. 

Even though there seemed to be no scuffle between the groundhog and the cats, it doesn’t mean there was no issue among the cats. The white and the orange cats mentioned above that visited my garden more frequently once before were very attached. They were like a newlywed couple in their honeymoon; whenever I saw the white one, nearby a few feet away or two seconds later, the orange one would show up. Based on the expressions on their faces and how they behaved, my husband claimed that the white one was a female while the orange one was a male. Well, I think he was right. The white one always walked ahead of the orange one like a proud princess, arrogant and bitchy. The orange one quietly followed behind like her most obedient follower. If they both lay at the flower bed near each other, all of a sudden, the white one sat up, with a pout face and without a motion, she directly walked away. The orange one looked puzzled in the first place as if he couldn’t figure out what made her unhappy again; but right after he got up, decided that no matter what he should go find her and be with her. So he rushed off in her direction.  

Obviously, the white cat was moody. Her temper was like the summer sky--rain or shine could switch within one second or even happen at the same time. The orange cat was a very patient, loyal husband; whatever she did to him, cared about him or not, he didn’t mind. He was determined to protect her, to accompany her, and in his clumsy way to try to make her happy (though he appeared to always fail this mission).  

“Will his patience run out one day?” Sometimes I wondered when I happened to see them. Then one day in late spring, through the kitchen window, I saw the orange cat wearing a worried look up and down searching for her in my backyard. He checked the flowerbed, the boxwood where they used to stay; she wasn’t there. Then he traced down the path, stopped midway, looking anxious, exhausted and a little mad. According to what happened later, I believed that he was figuring at that moment: “What am I doing here? Am I an idiot or what? For such a woman who treats me like a punk!”  

To my surprise, he turned on his heel afterward and strode out under the fence.  

I hadn’t seen them for quite a while; I thought this breakup perhaps would stop them from coming back. My garden looked lonesome without them playing around. But unexpectedly one morning they both appeared again on my driveway--this time the female came on the heels of the male drooping her head. I began to observe them with heightened interest , and one day on the porch, I even saw the white cat was licking the orange one’s fur.  

“That’s unusual.” My husband noticed it as well. 

“I think I know why.” I then told him about what I saw that day from the kitchen window. “She must have been tired of him and wanted her freedom, so she left him. But after tasting the bitter she realized he was the best, that’s why she came back. He chose to forgive her; but her betrayal left a scar in their companionship. Now she has to pay the price for her fault.” 

“Did you make up all this?” Obviously, my husband was in doubt.  

“Had I not seen how the orange cat behaved that day, I wouldn’t think it like this either. Believe it or not, this is my analysis. Alas,” I sighed, “no matter whether cats or human beings, the relationships between men and women are always the same.”