I was on call this weekend for 20 hours starting around 8pm Saturday until sometime on Sunday. I’m not sure when I stopped working because I’m back at work and not really sure if I had break in between.
Anyway, at some point during the weak hours of Sunday morning, something furry rubbed against my feet while I fixed the internet and saved lives in Australia.
I looked down and it was the Calico Cat from “out there in the night”. The same cat that’s been visiting me on and off since last year. I’d left my door open on Saturday night and she strolled in and jumped up on my desk. Suddenly I forgot about all those lives I was supposed to be saving in Wangaratta.
I let her hang out while I worked and, as I succumbed to her charms, the thought crossed my mind that I should feed her.
But if I feed the cat, it’s all over, right? Then she becomes MY cat and I have to give her a name and buy a litter box and everything.
Then again, if you look closely, she’s shaved and pretty well groomed, which means: Someone is caring for her.
Yet she hangs out at my place and sleeps on my bed. She rolls around on the rug and even nuzzles my armpits! Pretty intimate, I know.
She doesn’t have tag or a collar, I thought, so technically I could adopt her. Then she jumped off my desk and ran back outside.
Earlier today, I went out onto my patio and saw her across the alley hanging out at someone else‘s house. She was sleeping on their balcony. Go figure.
That free-spirited slut.