Spanish views from a small town

Cats. My favorite animal. I have four, and they each have a different personality and are accordingly, easier or harder to get along with. Or with each other. Alliances are formed, fronts are set, a scapegoat is found, and peace then comes round again.  Tigresa was a misnomer from the beginning. She's more of a paper tiger. She is a very shy cat, greyish with other colors, between tiger and calico, and usually becomes the scapegoat of our little feline world. Though at other times she and the others will make up and they will curl up and sleep together. Any sudden little noise while she's awake and she is suddenly on the lookout, waiting to see if it's fight or flight. While she's asleep, be careful how you awaken her. She may suddenly jump up and skedaddle. I'm the only one she trusts. Even so, if I startle her, she makes sure it's me before she relaxes again. Matrionuxca (or Nuxca, the x pronounced sh) is the boss. She's just a week younger than Tigres...

Some years ago whenever you visited some houses in the surrounding villages, as soon as you walked up to the gate you would be greeted by the intense, deep-toned, frenzied barking of a dog large enough to eat you. Alarmed, you would look around before entering and you would be relieved to see the dog was chained up. Inside the yard, you would see that the dog would be on a long chain, have a couple of old pots nearby with food and water and a place where it could sleep sheltered from the weather. And it would transcend, as the owner talked about what a great watch-dog it was, that the dog lived all its life in that corner of the yard, fed only left-overs or bones. And that was considered normal among villagers that had practicality on their minds. Something similar occurred with cats. They have long been considered working animals and even easier to take care of than dogs. Because cats were free-roaming, living in barns and fields, living off the mice and rats they would hunt. But th...