As you can see, Rose is a long haired cat. In the winter time she got along very nicely, and her winter coat made her look like a great big orange puffball. She got along with the other cats, although she really didn't like them all that well. What she liked was people and attention - and turkey.
Well, she went back outside alright, and came right back in the next time the door was opened. Good job, self.
You may wonder why Rose was an outdoor cat. My father kept an african grey parrot, Hobo, and Hobo liked being out of his cage. Rose being a real tried and true hunter, it would only be a matter of time before Hobo wound up as parrot fricassee. So Rose and the other cats stayed outside, where the parrot was safe.
After the parrot left, Rose was admitted into the house. Zeus arrived shortly thereafter, as did Danté and Lily. At night while we watched TV, Zeus would sit in Mom's lap and Rose would sit on the arm of her chair. When Mom went to bed, all four cats would join her, each cat having their own corner. Mom had to keep the peace, which meant asserting herself when a boxing match started.
I inherited Zeus and Rose, both of whom were antiques when we all moved to Columbus. Zeus passed away last July (R.I.P. Zeus), and now Rose is gone - leaving Danté and I on our own. We're used to it.
So that's Rose. She was a good cat, never got up on the counter or sharpened on the furniture. She liked being brushed, and was kind of high maintenance that way, but she was worth it. R.I.P. Rose.