Our Cat&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;

He is not our cat!

Yes he eats our food, sleeps on our furniture, and holds conversations
of intellect and affection. But we can not take the responsibility of
his wheeling and dealings. For he likes to cause a havoc and a stink.
He thrives upon the attention his mischief permits. Exaggerate I do
not. He is a very clever cat. Take for instance his habit of sitting
high upon the garage roof, calling ferociously to passes by, shouting
at them to gain their attention. Nobody realized he just wanted a
natter. You see he likes to talk and hold conversation. He expects a
response from his much thought out declarations. What his declarations
were that one particular day I have never been sure. Tinned food is
better than dry? Maybe, his teeth were hurting on that finicky day.
However let's cut from the chase. It was a passer by who entered the
place. Hearing these load cries of outrage and despair. He clambered
upon a bin to rescue the silly thing. What a hero you may like to
think. Not the cat that after purring with delight at the newcomer's
attention. Decided he did not want to give up his sunning spot to some
two legged cretin. He hissed and he snarled, wrapping his jaws around
the hero's thumb and clawing out to defend his throne. Our poor hero
wobbled from his make shift ladder. For a moment the bin span like a
young child's spinning wheel. Then he departed its company and cat-less
came to the ground with a very heavy thud. Growing wise to such
occasions my response was very clear. 'He is not our cat; I think he
lives somewhere near!'