Ghost kitty

So who's the ghost kitty here?

Is it Cassie, reflected in the glass while she sits inside "her" house contemplating the significance of this neighborhood floozy-cat sprawled on the doormat?

Or is it the faded-gray calico cat on the doormat?

(I have never before seen a calico with what is known in cat-fancier circles as a diluted gray or diluted blue coat. I had to look it up.)

The outdoor calico -- I call her that to distinguish her from Cassie, who is my indoor calico -- appeared in the neighborhood a couple of months ago. At first I thought she was a stray, but I'm beginning to think that's not the case. I rarely see her at night or on the weekends, so I suspect she has a house to go to when her people are at home.

She's friendly enough, although standoffish. If I speak quietly to her when I find her on my front porch, she'll slowly approach me and allow me to pet her. But not for long.

I think she's the real ghost kitty, because she seems to be able to disappear at will.

She's really quite a beautiful cat, with the requisite copper and white fur mixed in with the gray in her coat. If her gray fur were black and she didn't have a full white bib and a couple of white paws, she'd be a classic tortoise-shell.

She seems to spend her days making the rounds of the other front porches in the neighborhood. Although I realize there's no exclusivity involved, I'm delighted that she considers my porch to be cat-friendly.

Cassie? Well she's not so accepting. She frequently hisses her disapproval. The charming visitor, however, simply ignores Cassie.