OK, before I get started here, did anyone lose a cat? Black with white paws, very friendly, very hungry, very cocky?

Or if you didn't lose one, would you like one? I know of one that's available. Black with white paws, very friendly, very hungry, very cocky.

Said cat has taken up residence in my backyard for the past couple months. He sleeps on my lawn furniture and comes trotting up to the back door at mealtimes, demanding breakfast, lunch and dinner, and make it snappy. He is impervious to the outraged yowls and hisses of the two large felines that already live in my house, who consider the yard their exclusive territory. When I'm not looking, he occasionally chases Theo, the braver of my two scaredy cats. Fur has been seen to fly.

But to me he's a total suck-up, arching his back, begging to be petted, loudly praising the food he extorts from me -- and looking piteously past me into the nice, warm, dry house. I've named him Eddie Haskell. He's as sneaky as his namesake. If it weren't for sturdy locks and the guard cats on duty, he'd stroll right in and probably be sitting at the breakfast table when I get up in the morning.

This is no feral cat. He clearly was raised in the lap of luxury, even if he has fallen on hard times. I wonder if he took off to see the world -- or got evicted and was left to fend for himself by a previous owner.

As I write this, it's cold and rainy outside for about the hundredth day in a row. Eddie is out in the yard, parading his pathetic wetness where I'll be sure to see it from my cozy vantage point in the kitchen.

Which is where I plan to spend the afternoon -- nice and dry, except for the steam condensing on my glasses when I stir the pot. It's soup weather, and I feel like cooking up a big vat of something hearty. While pointedly ignoring the big, furry guilt trip outside my window.

Soup is one of my favorite kinds of food. It's simple, it's easy, it smells great and it's versatile -- you can put just about anything in the pot, and somehow it ends up melding together into a whole that is greater (and feeds more people) than the sum of its parts. Though it's always better if you think about the flavors you want to layer together. I'm thinking a base of bacon, with leeks, carrots and onions to add sweetness, then some sort of dried beans or lentils, some greens, and maybe some shredded Parmesan to top it off Š

Yum. I'm hungry already! But unfortunately, I don't have everything I need in the house, so it looks like I'll have to venture out into the storm after all.

Oh well. I needed to go the store anyway -- Eddie's bowl is empty and the soup kitchen has run out of Friskies.

Honestly, don't any of you need a new pet? They say that once you feed a cat and give him a name, you've adopted him. But I'm trying to be the exception to that rule. I can't turn my back on the homeless, and I don't begrudge Eddie the food he devours. But enough welfare -- he needs to get off the dole! I'd rather help him get back on his feet, find affordable housing and earn his keep as somebody's purring lap warmer.

If someone will just give him the opportunity, I'm sure he will settle down and become a functioning member of society. Or if he's given that chance and opts to wander off again, preferring to maintain his ruggedly independent lifestyle of camping out and living off handouts, I suppose he's free to do so.

Just not in my backyard.

The best inspirations come from what is fresh in the market. When I went shopping, I spotted a beautiful bunch of beets, and decided to add them into the plan. The result was one of the prettiest (and tastiest) soups I've ever made. I'm glad I wrote this one down -- it's worth replicating.

Ruby-Red White

Bean Soup

1 1/2 cups white-colored dried beans (I used a mixture of what was in the cupboard)

1/4 lb. (3-6 slices depending on thickness) high-quality smoked bacon

1 leek, white parts only, cleaned, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced

1 medium onion, chopped

3 carrots, chopped

1 red beet, peeled and chopped into small cubes

1 Tbsp. tomato paste (get the kind in a tube and keep it in the fridge -- it's convenient and you won't need to open a whole can when you only need a tiny bit)

2 bay leaves

1 tsp. dried sage

1/2 tsp. dried thyme

1 heel Parmesan, or any other dried-out leftover bits that are getting too hard to grate (optional)

2 Tbsp. salt, or to taste

Beet greens, cleaned and chopped (see below)

Grated Parmesan cheese

Soak the beans, preferably overnight, or at least for a couple hours.

Prepare the vegetables as indicated. For the beet greens, thoroughly wash them and cut the leaves off along each side of the ribs, chopping the green parts into 2-inch pieces. Then finely chop the ribs into 1/2-inch pieces.

Cut the bacon slices into 1-inch pieces. Cook them fairly slowly in a large stockpot over medium-high heat until a lot of the fat has melted and the remaining bits are brown and crisp. Fish out the crisp bits, drain on a paper towel, and reserve.

Add the onion, leek, carrots and beet to the bacon fat in the pan, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the leek has softened and the onion is just beginning to brown. Stir in the tomato paste, then add 2 1/2 quarts (10 cups) of water. Add the bay leaves, sage and thyme, and bring to a boil. Add the beans and cheese rinds (if you are using them), bring the pot back to a boil, then turn down the heat and simmer, covered, until the beans are just beginning to soften (about half an hour, depending on the types of beans and how long you soaked them). When they are almost done, add the salt.

Cook about 5 minutes more, then ladle about 3 cups of beans and liquid into a blender container, and puree. (Be sure to fish out the bay leaves first - they're a choking hazard.)

Pour the pureed mixture back into the soup. Add the beet greens and cook until they are tender. This could be another 10-20 minutes, depending on how tough the beet stems were.

Serve garnished with a couple pinches of the reserved bacon (crumble it into finer bits) and a tablespoon of grated or shredded Parmesan cheese.

Makes about 10 servings.

Napa writer Betty Teller is a serious foodie who tries not to take food too seriously. If you'd like to adopt a cat, or contact her for another reason, she can be reached at amuse-bouche@sbcglobal.net.