Our cat, Salem, is very territorial. Accompanied by Bella, her bodyguard and muscle, Salem patrols her territory each day, allowing entry only to prey (i.e. bunnies and birds).
But for the past year or so, there’s been one exception. A stray black cat has been allowed into the yard. When we put cat food and water out for him, she allowed him to come up on the porch to eat and drink without a hint of hostility. He spent the winter in the rafters of our garden shed, coming out to have a bowl of cat food on the porch, but finally, this spring, Salem allowed him to come into the house. At this point, he had to have some sort of name other than “that stray black cat.” I thought he looked rather like Albert Einstein with his long fur sticking out in all directions, but “Albert” was outvoted and “Leo” won. It was close: 2 to 1. I haven’t been able to get a decent picture of Leo yet; like all black cats, his fur seems to either suck up light like a black hole or reflect it back like he’s wearing a clear vinyl raincoat.