That orange cat... again.

After months and months of not petting that orange and white stray cat, after refusing to give him a name, other than Orange Kitty (which doesn't count), that orange cat has now established the back porch as his place of preference.

He no longer hides under the back steps or underneath the cottage all day long.  That orange cat is right on the porch, not only in plain view, but on the porch furniture and looking like he's been there forever.

My husband has started to pet him, and that orange cat no longer scratches or tries to bite.  After watching both Gatsby and Mickey's behavior, the orange cat has taken cat-lessons from them as to the proper way to greet us as we walk out the door and the best way to say thank-you for the countless bowls of Meow Mix.

Yesterday, I looked at that orange and white cat as he sat on the chair by the back door of the porch and he turned his body over so he could look at me with upside-down eyes.  He just laid there, staring at me as I stared back at him. I put my hand down towards him and he didn't try to scratch me..... he let me pet his orange and white head and he started to purr.

I kept petting his little head..... he kept purring, and then he closed his eyes and there he was, belly up towards the porch ceiling, four paws curled up in tight little commas, perfectly content. As if he'd always been there.

Give me a blessed break. I do not want another cat.


Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you ready to give me a real name?