I found a cat outside my apartment door. I don’t know whose it is, or if it has a home. No name tag either. I held my hand out and it started purring and rubbing its head against my knuckles. And when I opened the door it walked inside.
Then it went over to my neighbor’s door. They have a straw doormat — great for scratching the hard-to-reach places.
Now I can’t stop thinking about cats. Each time I return to the apartment I wish it were back to greet me. I even stocked up on canned fish from Trader Joe’s. Herring for me, tuna for the cat.
