Back in the olden times, you let people know when they could come visit you by telling them when your “at-home” days were. Usually this meant your mama or some other older female relative would sit in the parlor embroidering while your and your young man held hands on the settee. I don’t have a settee, nor do I embroider, but that didn’t stop Callie Jean from having an “at-home” day yesterday!
Yes, I did it — at the egging-on of Chuckweasel, I let one of the stray cat boyfriends into the apartment. He was being pathetic, drinking dirty ol’ rainwater out of a styrofoam cooler on my porch, so I gave him some clean water and a plate of the healthy food that makes Callie throw up, and he seemed very relaxed and groovy and HE SUCKERED ME!
So I opened the sliding door and let him wander in. Callie did the ears-back hiss a couple times, but then she seemed to recognize him from all that whoring she does through the window, and she chilled out.
I was completely about to give up, huck the cat in the car for a trip to the vet to be checked out prior to his becoming an inside cat… when he went back over to the sliding door and indicated his earnest desire to take his leave of us (he stood up against the glass and yowed).
So Chuckweasel and I have determined he wants to remain a free agent… but we will continue to feed him if he needs it, ’cause we’re suckers. Also, I think the cat was concerned when Chuckweasel explained to him about the “toll” for living here… tomcats get really funny when you suggest they might need a little “operation!” Sorry dude, that’s the cover charge!