The day we moved into our house, we walked up the steps to unlock the door before we started hauling boxes in, and a cat came up and rubbed against my leg. He didn’t even wait for me to stop walking, just started swirling around my ankles as I kept moving.
Cats and I have always had a mutual understanding. They can sense I don’t like them and they mostly steer clear of me. (There are a few cats in my life that I like. I’m not a heartless monster.) I have never had a cat approach me like this one did, without any sense of stranger danger or indication that he was getting my “not a cat person” vibes.
He continued to hang out in the front yard as we unloaded the truck, stealing snuggles whenever possible. I noticed he had some black fur under his neck that reminded me of a bow tie, so I started calling him Dapper Dan (from one of Galen’s favorite movies).
Much to my bewilderment, Dan has sort of become our friend. We have no idea who he belongs to; he doesn’t wear a collar, but he seems to be fed and taken care of. He hangs out with us most of the time, but will occasionally disappear for a few days at a time. We don’t let him inside, even though he tries really hard to scoot in ahead of us every time we open the door. We don’t feed him, either, but we talk to him when he’s around and pet him as often as we can.
We had a fruit and vegetable box delivered last month and I left the empty box out the next week to be picked up. The company didn’t end up picking it up overnight, but this is what Galen found on our porch when he left for work in the morning:
We may not feed him or let him inside, but we did make him a bed.
He’ll often be waiting for us when we get home:
And whenever we come near him (which is hard to avoid, considering he puts himself right in the middle of the walkway), he flips over and begs to be petted:
We’ve almost stepped on him multiple times because his favorite thing to do is run one step ahead of you and stop so you’ll run into him and hopefully pet him.
After we’ve gone inside, he’ll sometimes stay outside the door and meow at us while we watch TV:
This is the only cat I’ve ever considered bringing into my house. If my family members weren’t allergic, I probably would have already brought him in to watch TV on the couch with me. We sort of have the perfect situation now, though; we get to enjoy his quirks and snuggle with him on the porch occasionally, but we don’t have to feed him, clean out his litter box, or pay for all the expensive things that come with owning a pet. The only problem is that he sort of claws you while he purrs when you’re petting him, and his nails are long enough to put holes in clothes. Would he officially be our cat if I cut his nails?