I appear to have acquired a cat.
Or, it is probably more correct to say that a cat appears to have acquired me!
He was waiting on the doorstep for me yesterday, when I got home from shopping at about 4.30. And he didn’t go out until 6.30 this morning, when he woke me up for some attention - and then only when I put him outside. I was concerned, because he hadn’t had a wee in all that time, and thought he was waking me up so I could let him out.
At 9.30, he was crying outside my door to be let in.
And hasn’t been outside since.
I caved in, and gave him some food (a very old, out of date packet at the back of the cupboard). I gave him half of it to start with - I was convinced he is actually someone else’s cat, and is just coming to my house for some love, but he appeared to be starving - the only time I’ve ever seen a cat eat so quickly and so eagerly was when I was in Portugal, and someone came to feed the strays.
So I gave him the other half of the packet.
He is now contentedly curled up on my tshirt on the bed.
I really don’t know what to do. Much as I love him - let’s face it, he is absolutely adorable - earlier this year I got rid of two cats because my job means I can’t commit to looking after one full time (although, as it happens, I have actually been living at home almost full time since then and probably could have kept them). However, if he has no home, then I can’t kick him out. Poor thing was petrified of the fireworks last night - and was even scared of some on the telly earlier today.
If he moves in, I might canvas the neighbourhood, see if I can find his real owner. If nothing else it will give them peace of mind, in case they are wondering where he is buggering off to all night. And will also give me peace of mind that when I kick him out he does have somewhere else to go!