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Tuesday, December 22, 2015

I Think I've Been Adopted

The other night, I was sitting on my couch, television on while I talked to my mom when I heard something. I muted the television and said, "I hear meowing." I walked to the back door to check the patio and what do I see? You guessed it--a cat.

I tried water, but she (he?) didn't want that. I went back inside and opened a can of tuna. This was more like it. She (he?) ate everything I put out, which was about half a can. I went back and added everything left in the can and the cat finished it all. We then played a game of in and out of the house. She'd (I really think it's a girl cat, but I could totally be wrong) put her feet on the step inside, but couldn't quite bring herself to come in.

When I got home from work the next day, my dad says, "Your friend came to the front door looking for you and now she's waiting at the back door." And sure enough, there she was.

She's sweet and friendly and must have been someone's pet. She's also dirty, some of her fur is matted, and she's got mud/food/crap stuck in the fur around her mouth.  She needs a bath and a brushing and a trip to the vet.

I'm not exactly sure I want to be adopted. My last cat died a while ago, and when I moved to Atlanta, I didn't bring down the cat carrier or the litter box, or brushes. On the other hand, she's far too sweet a cat to just let her run loose until she dies. Outdoor cats don't live that long, and if I'm right about her originally being someone's pet, she might live a shorter life than a feral cat left outdoors.

I'm already checking out the cost of food bowls and litter boxes and the kitty convict collars. I'm sure there will be more stories to come.