Hello. My name is Silvy. And I’m a runaway.
And all the other little rebellious runaways said …
I know, I know. You’re not supposed to name the stray kitty who finds his way to your doorstep. And yes … yes that is dog food and a bowl of water by his side and yes he did eat to his heart’s content and yes he did stick around for the evening to play with my son and nieces.
So I have a heart. Sue me.
Isn’t he handsome, though? And I think he’s rare. Not in looks, obviously. But in character. He actually likes people, people. And everyone knows cats don’t really like people – they tolerate people. But not Silvy. He’s friendly, and talkative, and he appreciates food and laps. Okay, he’s also a bit presumptuous by showing up on my doorstep, climbing on my lap like it’s been his for his entire life, and waltzing into my heart like a good and sappy country song.
I never ask for kitties or country songs. They just seem to pop up in my life.
Don’t worry. I didn’t let him stay overnight in the house. But if he comes back, I’ll feed him again. Because I’m not sorry. Not even a little bit. And he can come to my doorstep any day, any time.