You approach the hydrangea bushes with cautious steps, your butler's training keeping your movements silent and deliberate. The leaves tremble slightly as you part them, revealing a small hollow beneath the dense foliage. The earthy scent of damp soil mixes with something sharper - the unmistakable musk of an unfamiliar cat.

Crouching down, you spot several tufts of jet-black fur caught on the branches. They're coarse compared to Lady Whiskerton's silken strands, and carry the faint odor of city streets. A half-eaten sparrow lies nearby, its feathers scattered in a pattern suggesting a hasty meal. This was no pampered housecat, but a streetwise intruder.

As you examine the evidence, a low growl rumbles from the shadows beneath the neighboring rhododendron. You freeze as a massive tomcat slinks into view - his torn ear and scarred muzzle telling stories of countless alley fights. His golden eyes lock onto yours, sizing you up as either threat or servant. The tension hangs thick in the air, broken only by distant birdsong.

The stranger's gaze flicks toward the house, then back to you. He takes a deliberate step forward, his claws unsheathing slightly as his tail lashes from side to side. Every instinct tells you this feline doesn't follow the same rules of decorum as your noble mistress. The standoff continues, neither of you willing to break first.