WHERE’S MY BREAKFAST? this cat seems to be demanding (Flickr/Kenta Hayashi photo).

We have cats like some people have gophers.

The difference is that most folks spend some money and labor in getting rid of their critters, while we subsidize ours.

It all started when our incumbent dog – Shadow, the flat-coated retriever – moved in and our cat – Marble – decided to move out. It seemed that Shadow regarded felines as something to chase and Marble regarded dogs as something to flee from.

Well, Marble had always been an indoor-outdoor cat, so we figured a short time of feeding her outside, pending canine reform, was manageable.

The problem is that cats regard food like ducks regard water: if it’s anywhere near, they’ll find it. Soon we had Marble and her Plus-One, which was followed by various furry relatives and free-loaders.

Not wanting Marble to have to compete for chow, we – by this I mean beloved soft-hearted wife Marilyn – started feeding the whole crew. Twice a day.

The diner now has a clientele of from six to nine felines. We were concerned that the neighbors would mind, but it looks like they’d rather have us running the soup kitchen.

Time passed. Marble is back in the house, but the Friskies and Temptations keep going out morning and night.

I mention all of this because this week is our 30th anniversary. One of the reasons I married her is her unceasing capacity to want to help those in need and to share our bounty. Everyone is drawn to her generosity; she’s like a human campfire.

People, dogs, even cats. But not gophers. I have to draw the line somewhere.