Timmits
It started Saturday.
When the Birnbaums came an orange cat was waiting on our walkway. He followed the kids to the front door, but we didn’t let him in. I picked him up and carried him to the curb (he purred the whole way) and walked to the door. He was already there waiting for me. I took him to the curb again, gave him a little scratch and ran back to the house before he could start moving. He waited outside a while.
On my way to pick up my parents at the airport I almost hit the cat crossing the street. He glared at me a moment and then moved on.
Diana asked about him on Sunday. He’d been around teh neighborhood for a few weeks and almost everyone had fed him at some point.
On Monday Claire left the house and teh cat followed her up to the bus stop and waited for her to get on the bus. When she came back, he was still waiting for her and followed her home.
That was too much for Diana, she put him in the bathroom and called me for permission to take him to the vet. He didn’t have any collar or tracking device, but aside from a flea infestation he was perfectly healthy. The doctor figured he had to be a lost pet since he still wouldn’t stop purring and would put up with anything as long as someone was touching him.
She figured he probably was dumped at the animal shelter when the previous owner arrived after it closed (people do that a lot, it seems).
Now he’s in our basement, and unless we find the owner I think we have a new pet. Diana is only a little allergic, she says, but I have a feeling she’s hiding how she’s really reacting.