This weekend we were adopted by a cat.
Saturday morning, Steve was frying up some eggs and bacon (you know, a great way to start off our month of eating less meat. Technically it was still May.) and opened the back door to air out the house. All of a sudden he heard some frantic meowing. A ginger tabby was pacing back and forth in front of our [enclosed] back patio door, begging for some food.
We figured bacon wasn’t the best food for cats (or humans, for that matter…) but had one last can of tuna and opened it up for the kitty. The cat devoured the food. We noted that it seemed like a smallish (young?) cat and was rather slender. After scraping out the last of the tuna with its paw, it came into our apartment, looked around, and got very friendly with Steve.
I’m allergic to cats, so I watched and took pictures.
We left the door open and after a while it wandered out and disappeared.
That night, I started cooking dinner. Again, frantic meowing ensued. This time Steve went to our friends’ house and got some cat food. Again, the cat devoured all the food, only slowing down when it neared the bottom of the bowl.
Unfortunately we had an event to go to, so we put the cat outside.
When we got home past midnight, we saw the cat laying in our patio. It sprang up when it saw us and ran right inside when we opened the door.
Steve has been wishing for a pet for a long time (we’ve vowed to not get a puppy until we own a house, which could be several years from now) so he was loving our new little friend. “Can we keep it inside the house tonight?” he asked. I relented; it was a very sweet cat and I hadn’t been having any allergies yet; I was being very careful to wash my hands frequently, not touch my face, and keep up with my twice-a-day allergy medicine.
The next morning, we cracked the back door. Steve got more cat food from the store. After feeding the cat, we left and were gone for almost eight hours. When we came back, the cat was right where we left it – on its new “home” on the ottoman:
It seems to have made itself quite comfortable:
And still here in the evening:
We’ve been knocking on our neighbors’ doors to see if the cat belongs to anyone else. It does seem odd to us that it would have hung out on our patio at 12:30 am if it had a home somewhere else. Our college town is unfortunately known to have abandoned cats around the time when students are moving out and going back home, so it’s possible that this is one of those casualties. Steve is ecstatic to have a little animal around the house again. I hope he’s still excited when he comes home to find that it’s made a second home on his office chair, which is now officially covered in cat hair.
We’ve been calling the cat “Nutmeg” (back in the days before I was allergic to cats, I always wanted two ginger tabbies named “Cinnamon” and “Nutmeg”) and have been referring to it mainly as “she” because it is so sweet and has no visible man-parts. We suspect it may be pregnant because it has a large-ish belly for being so slender. If we don’t locate the owner in our apartment complex within a few days, we may have one of our vet friends look at it and then decide what to do with it.
For now, Nutmeg is sprawled on the office floor nearby, washing her armpit and other unmentionable areas.