Today, as we walked home from swimming, we saw a black and white cat.

[conuly]

(I really like cats.)

And this guy was friendly, he came right up when I held out my hand and clicked my tongue at him, and he was happy to have the girls pet him. So as we started walking home, I stopped every few feet and called him over.

Ana: You know, he's not really going to follow you home, Connie. You understand that, right?
Me: When did you start talking like a grown-up, Ana?

As it happens, though, I know a little bit more about cats than Ana does. I had him pegged from the start as a cat who might be perfectly willing to be led wherever people were going to pet him, and when he got to our (somewhat overgrown with morning glories) yard he was pretty happy and spent several minutes dashing in, finding a new hiding spot, being cuddled, and dashing out again in the way cats have. I didn't expect him to hang around - so no, Ana, we're not keeping him - but I do like cats.

In other news, sometime this week we started living in a soap opera. This is not acceptable to me.

Comments

[alessandriana.livejournal.com]

I once had a cat follow me home... and into my apartment. Had to let her back out after a while, but she was a sweetie.

[redbird]

My sympathies on the soap opera.

I hope it ends soon, and that you are being spared the really over-the-top plots (soap-opera-style amnesia, unknown relatives turning up at the doorstep after finishing a prison sentence—someone you know and love doing so is different—Jim Jones kidnapping someone's baby…).