She’s Not Homeless
She was still groggy. I saw her shift into the kitchen, listlessly. The faucet quickly supplied what sounded like a very small glass of water. The cats outnumber the dogs under this house. I sat near what appeared to be the cat room looking in at the hissing occupants as they assumed I was there to scrap, yet all I wanted was for her to let me in so I could play too. She keeps feeding me, but I have never managed to make it inside the house. She slips out quickly and closes the door behind her, and that’s when I usually miss my opportunity. One of these days she’ll get herself locked out of the house. I hope it’s today.
As I hastily consumed the veritable smorgasbord of kibbles and bits that I had been offered, as I was every day this strange creature existed here, I noticed the panic on her face, and the lack of pants. Trust me, even though I’m menacing and appear large as I perch on people’s window sills, I am adept, agile, and very, very intelligent. I laughed inside. It was a purrfect moment. I had wished that she would lock herself out for not allowing me in, and she did. HA! HA!
Scamper scamper…[Note: Cats don’t usually stick around long enough to divulge all of the information. See her perspective here if you’d like to know the rest of the story.]