A kitty tried to follow us home last night.
He – or she – walked through most of our neighborhood with us, following closely behind some of the way, prancing next to us part of it and plopped in front of us the rest.
A complete cheater, trying to get us to consider adoption.
Despite what people may tend to think, we aren’t actually cat people. Or even animal people, exactly. We don’t have cat figurines or photos or calendars or quilts or paintings or books or saltshakers. We just like both of our cats. We are their humans, and we are okay with it ending there.
This particular kitty, however, tried to make us see things differently. It was clean, collarless and seemingly well kept. Certainly friendly.
With no way of knowing whether it had a home nearby, we tried not to look directly at it or catch its big blue eyes, just in case it thought it belonged to us. Not looking back at him – or her – didn’t help. The determination to stay with us would not diminish.
He – or she – finally paused when another cat entered the street. That was our chance to sneak away, hoping it knew how to get back home, if it had one.
We aren’t cat people. Not really. But for some reason, cats seem to think we are.